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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501663">Night from Hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneliestcactus/pseuds/loneliestcactus'>loneliestcactus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, The Borrowers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fear, G/T, Gen, Giant/Tiny, References to The Borrowers, Slow Burn, borrower au, little baby writes borrower au because it’s a special interest, will i finish this? who knows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneliestcactus/pseuds/loneliestcactus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon hasn’t eaten in days, and Benrey and Tommy are the most annoying roommates a borrower could ask for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>684</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this after being egged on by the hlvrai brainrot discord server, so it may not be incredible but it was definitely fun to write!! will i finish it? well. maybe. who knows. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon was sick of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, sick of it was an understatement. He sat in waiting, peeking from beneath cabinets, atop shelves, anything to catch <em>one measly moment</em> where the living space was unoccupied. Day and night, in and out, there wasn't a single time at least one of the humans of the apartment wasn't meandering their way through or lounging on the couch without a care in the world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If it was day, one of the roommates, Tommy, set himself up on the couch, his computer and stacks of papers and books piled up on the low-rise coffee table. He'd sit there nearly all day, typing in forums or reading his books, occasionally searching for a program on the T.V. (settling on a documentary or a couple episodes of old cartoons, as usual). Every once in a while, he'd make his way to the kitchen at the other side of the room and grab a soda, his lanky frame towering over Gordon as he hid beneath the worn down cabinet, unbeknownst to Tommy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What made matters worse was the massive dog that seemed to be unshakable from Tommy's side. She'd lay idly next to the couch, dozing off with her owner by her side. In these moments, if Tommy was still completely engrossed in what he was doing, Gordon would give a go at grappling up to the kitchen counter, only for the dog's eyes to blink open and turn towards him with the slight <em>clink</em> of his metal hook against the countertop. The dog would never attack, though, just silently stared at him. Even so, that would be enough to scare Gordon off for the time being, stifling a exasperated sigh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For any other borrower, nighttime would be the perfect opportunity for a borrowing trip. But, in this apartment, Gordon wasn't so fortunate. When the sun began to set and Tommy had resigned from his constant researching, the second roommate came into play, starting Gordon's nights from hell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second roommate was significantly shorter than Tommy, stockier, and intimidating none the less. Tommy called him Benrey, a name Gordon didn't even believe was real when he first heard it. His eyes were dark but sharp compared to the rest of his lazy demeanor. Benrey wouldn't have been too much trouble for Gordon if it weren't for his nocturnal schedule. He'd wake up as the sun sets, spending a bit of time with a tired Tommy, maybe through a couple rounds of some fighting game the two of them seemed to enjoy. Then, he'd bid his roommate goodnight, leaving Gordon to listen to the incessant clacking of controller joysticks, to watch the endless hours of gaming Benrey indulged himself in as he waited for the one moment Benrey would get up to get a snack, change some batteries, go to the bathroom, <em>whatever!</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And he rarely did.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Rarely</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~•~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon was starving. Four days eating nothing but stale crumbs would do that to a borrower. Not to mention the unbearable thirst that consumed him, only to be provoked and taunted every time one of the humans cracked open a can of soda or turned on the faucet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lay still on his back beneath the hollowed out threshold from the carpet to tile separating the kitchen and the living room, arms wrapped around his aching stomach, listening for any movement - or <em>hopefully</em> lack thereof - from the human. Benrey hadn't moved from the couch in hours, switching between a couple of games throughout the night. He'd occasionally mumble to himself, but was otherwise silent. Gordon was almost impressed. The man had been sitting there for hours, never once becoming restless or standing up. Gordon couldn't sit still for more than a couple minutes, having to talk to himself or walk around, anything to fill the empty air. Maybe it was the inherent restlessness of borrowers, but of the few others he'd met in his life he was by far the most active.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not at the moment, though, as he sat unperturbed by the dirt and grime in the threshold with him. He'd hadn't had a single satisfying meal in four days, only whatever crumbs he could scour from the floor in the kitchen. Even if his body was used to running on less food, this was a step too far. Every movement was aching, taxing on his already tired body, so he opted not to move and to focus more closely on finding an opening. He could hear everything; every little <em>click</em> of a button, the flick of a joystick. It was maddening. They played over and over in his head, <em>click click click</em> until he clapped his hands over his ears in frustration.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He almost didn’t hear them stop, and the thumping of footsteps as Benrey slowly rose from the couch and walked into his room, closing the door behind him. Gordon didn’t hesitate to spring into action, scrambling to his feet and grabbing the hook and backpack at his side. No matter how little time he had, this could be his only opening for <em>weeks</em>, and any chance he had he was going to have to take.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out on the cold linoleum of the dark kitchen, Gordon could see the light of the T.V. and the controller still left out on the coffee table: Benrey wouldn’t be gone for long. Gordon tossed his grapple, one side of the hook catching in a small indent on the countertop. He repelled up at breakneck speed, using near all the energy he had saved up from his stagnant aching. He couldn’t care less how loud and obvious he was at this point, his main focus to get something to eat, and to get it <em>now</em>. He pulled himself onto the countertop with a huff, studying the vast expanse or laminate and the collection of condiments shoved lazily into the corner. There wasn’t much to chose from aside from lone ketchup and mustard, and one single solitary box of cookies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cookies... well, they’d been there for a while, if Gordon could remember correctly, but any food was good food at this point. The seal on the clear, plastic box was broken, one sleeve of cookies already gone. He rushed over, leaving his hook stuck into the side of the cabinet, fumbling with his knife as he pulled it out of his bag. Gordon lodged the point of his knife under the lip of the box’s lid. The silence was shattered by the crackling of plastic as Gordon attempted to force open the box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, by the click of a closing door and a quiet, confused mumble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon, wrapped up in the desperate search for food, hadn’t noticed Benrey’s heavy footsteps leading towards the kitchen again, hadn’t heard the door begin to open until the man was standing in the middle of the living room, hadn’t seen he was illuminated by the light of the T.V. screen the <em>entire time.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He froze, then his blood <em>boiled</em>. Gordon stood at the edge of the countertop, meeting the eyes of the man in the doorway in a moment of brazen anger, “Can’t you just leave me alone for once in your <em>life?!</em>” he yelled, holding his head in his hands and pacing around the edge, “E-Every night! Every night I deal with your talking and gaming without a break! And when you do give me a moment alone, just a little time to get something to eat for the first fucking time this <em>week</em>, you walk back in right when it’s in my reach!” Gordon clasped his hands tightly around the strap of his bag, “Please, man. Just go to bed at a normal <em>fucking</em> time!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was what felt like a long drawn out silence as he awaited an answer. Adrenaline began to leave Gordon’s body as he realized the weight of what he’d just done, how he’d just <em>yelled</em> at the <em>giant</em> in front of him. The hunger caught up to him, coupled with the panic, leaving him a quivering mess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Benrey just stood there, staring, before speaking in a monotone voice, “...yeah, calm down?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon passed out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon and benrey talk a bit aka i actually write some dialogue</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i’m back :flushed: i write very slowly so sorry if this updates so infrequently!! thank you to everyone who has read and left comments it means a lot and i am kissing you all</p><p>to clear. things up. i would like to specify that the g/t tag is purely sfw and i never intend to write ANY nsfw for hlvrai. also g/t and the borrowers is kinda a comfort thing for me so. it is by no means anything weird. been seeing alotta backlash to g/t in the hlvrai community and i am sick of it luv so i’d thought i’d be more transparent. (if you do see g/t as a fetish. well youre in the wrong tag BUT either way please don’t associate me or anything i write as such &lt;3 feel free to read though!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benrey didn't really know how to react. He watched as the little guy on the counter hit the laminate, crumpling into a ball the size of his palm. He wasn't shocked, more confused, his face still set in the ordinary bored look he'd come to recognize.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, it wasn't what he expected of the night, and at first he just attributed the discovery to too many hours of <em>Heavenly Sword</em>. But walking up to the countertop, and kneeling down to be at eye level with the little guy had solidified his existence. He was real alright; minuscule hands balled into relaxed fists, thin streaks of grey running through his hair. The most impressive thing about him was his clothes, the little poncho and pants roughly sewn together from mismatched fabric, and a small pair of glasses perched askew on his nose.</p><p> </p><p>He poked the little guy. And when it didn't elicit any reaction, he did it again. One giant index finger nudged his side, pushing the little guy onto his back so Benrey could get a better look at him. He was thin, but not healthily so, skin pulled tightly across his rib cage. The thinness didn't suit him. He was stout, built tough and wide, and if he were full-sized, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey couldn't help but lean in, soaking up every detail of the unconscious guest, his curiosity uncharacteristic. Not much really caught his attention for too long, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of the little guy's chest. He looked so frail despite his frame, his face sunken and body malnourished.</p><p> </p><p><em>Malnourished</em>...</p><p> </p><p>Benrey looked around the countertop, the little makeshift blade lodged underneath the box's lid, just one firm shove away from opening. He grimaced, realizing he'd deprived the little guy of a meal. He pulled the knife from the box, tossing it around before letting the nonexistent weight rest in his palm. He thought for a moment, pocketed the blade, then shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>With one hand placed firmly on the countertop, palm up, Benrey nudged the little guy into his waiting grasp. He was... warm, but cooler than the humans he knew, though Benrey may have had a lapse of judgement as the little warmth soaked into his significantly colder skin. The little guy lay square in Benrey's palm, body twisted this way and that in a way that didn't exactly look comfortable, but still knocked unconscious. He curled his fingers slightly, not enough to totally elapse the small bit of light in the room. Then, he stood, walking over to the T.V. and hesitating, a flash of sadness passing over his face before he switched it off.</p><p> </p><p>He made his way to his bedroom, a door at the end of the hallway. The room was... <em>Benrey</em>. Unorganized knick-knacks in every nook and cranny, from figurines to video game boxes that were in, surprisingly, pretty pristine shape. Clutter gathered in piles on the floor, as well as the notorious 'laundry chair' that collected a mountain of washed <em>and</em> unwashed sweatshirts (Benrey played Russian Roulette every time he chose a sweatshirt from that chair). He cleared a spot on his desk, haphazardly knocking away empty cans of soda and candy wrappers, grabbing one of the sweatshirts and laying it out on the desk with a shallow divot in the middle.</p><p> </p><p>He gently placed the little guy on top of the sweatshirt, rolling him off his palm and draping one of the sleeves over his body. Benrey looked at his work for a moment, before leaving the room to finally eat his breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>At two in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>~•~</p><p> </p><p>Gordon woke up a half hour later.</p><p> </p><p>He was warm and comfortable, <em>strangely</em> comfortable. A sense of comfort he hadn't felt since he'd moved out of his family's nest a while back when he'd turned twenty. The floor wasn't hard, but cushioned with thick, soft cloth. It entangled him as he kicked the cloth away, the warmth stifling. But it didn't seem to leave as he kept kicking. The piece of fabric was <em>huge</em>, and a sickening feeling began to sink in his chest. He looked around the dim room, taking in the stacks of clothes, the towering furniture, the dormant monitor next to him before realizing he didn't recognize this room. He didn't know where he was. <em>This wasn't the room he passed out in.</em></p><p> </p><p>He panicked, breaking out of his frozen stupor as he recalled the events earlier in the night. He'd <em>yelled</em> at Benrey when he was interrupted, then passed out at the most inopportune time.</p><p> </p><p>But... he wasn't dead?</p><p> </p><p>Benrey hadn't killed him. Or hurt him at all, really. It was the opposite; Gordon was the most comfortable he'd been in <em>ages</em>. Though, he still didn't want to take the risk. Benrey could have been waiting for him to wake up, knowing that he was weak and pitiful, on the brink of starvation. He could be waiting for the easiest moment to crush him, or worse <em>keep</em> him. With the thought in mind, he palmed at his belt. Then he froze. He'd left his hook lodged into the countertop. His knife was gone too. There was nothing on his belt, leaving him completely unarmed and without any means of escape.</p><p> </p><p>For the time being, Benrey wasn't in the room, but as long as he had no hook, Gordon was stuck here. All he could do was sit and wait for those thundering footsteps to make their way back to the room. His stomach keened painfully when he thought of how close he was to a meal, how close he'd been to getting away scot-free with a chunk of cookie that could have fed him for a week. He took in his last few moments of quiet, savoring the time he had alone despite the angry, gnawing pain of hunger.</p><p> </p><p>Quiet didn't last long, as those familiar lazy footsteps shuffled their way back into the room. The man filled the doorway, and Gordon was forced to meet those dark eyes. Benrey held a bowl in his hands, continuing to eat as he leaned against the doorframe. Gordon shivered, craning his neck to stare at him.</p><p> </p><p>They were both silent for a tense couple of moments before Benrey nodded and spoke, "cringeman's awake? huh?"</p><p> </p><p>Gordon's eyes flickered up and down the man, his face painted with a grimace, his jaw clenched shut. He didn't speak, though the urge to yell at Benrey was almost unstoppable.</p><p> </p><p>"c'mon cringeman. i know you can talk. talk please thank you?" Benrey begged, taking a couple steps forward into the room and closing the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Gordon had to fight himself from flinching. He steadied himself, then spoke,"Please stop calling me that."</p><p> </p><p>"what? cringeman?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"i like that name." he teased, an annoying smirk making its way onto his face.</p><p> </p><p>Gordon gritted his teeth, "Well, I fucking <em>don't</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"cringeman has babyrage? doesn't like his name?"</p><p> </p><p>"I... ok fine." Gordon huffed, "Can't you just let me go, or do whatever your plan is? So I don't have to deal with you anymore?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey shrugged, "didn't really have a plan, bro. you yelled at me before, so i just brought you here." As he went to sit in the chair at the desk, Gordon scrambled away, pressing his back hard against the neck of the monitor. Benrey sat down, resting his head in his arms on the table, holding eye contact with the little guest on his desk, "i did have plans to game with my friend. but then you messed it all up..."</p><p> </p><p>Gordon, heart racing from being less than two feet away from the giant, made an offended sound, "<em>I</em> messed it up?!"</p><p> </p><p>"yeah, man... josh and i were supposed to get a couple rounds in. then you passed out."</p><p> </p><p>"You... <em>that's</em> what you're worried about?! Missing out on a few hours of gaming?" Gordon huffed, taking one indignant step forward to chastise the man, much to his own dismay, "Y-you're worried about losing out on your GamerScore while my <em>life</em> is on the line!"</p><p> </p><p>"your life's not on the line, bro—"</p><p> </p><p>"I was, and still am, starving. And you walked in on my only chance at food all week! How's that for interrupted!"</p><p> </p><p>Gordon looked on the brink of tears, and was now closer to Benrey then he had ever been while he was awake. He seemed fearfully aware of the fact, but was too stubborn and steadfast to take a step back.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey was silent for a moment, the outburst shocking him a bit. He closed his mouth, exhaling gently, "so... do you want to eat something?"</p><p> </p><p>Strangely cool but still warm breath washed over Gordon with every word. He scoffed, then surprisingly softened, his stomach growling as he caught the achingly-sweet smell of sugar cereal from the bowl next to Benrey, his senses on overdrive. For a moment he hesitated, then he sighed, voice tinged with the hint of a laugh, "Yeah. I-I do."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ONCE AGAIN come either kiss me, beat me up, or bully me on tumblr :) since this is my first fanfic i’ve ever shown the public getting responses makes me very happen and shows that people actually like what i write!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon eats, benrey gets yelled at, and some secrets are revealed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AUGH this one is the longest chapter i’ve written, clocking in at 2000 words exactly. SORRY for the like. week delay. i’ve been distracted making a barney calhoun cosplay like a kinnie. special thanks to frostios’ stream and the people in chat for gettin me to finish this tonight.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benrey had fished out a single Froot Loop from the bowl, placing it in a small puddle of milk on the spoon. The little guy, still afraid of getting too close to Benrey, waited for the man to withdraw his hands before stepping any closer. Then, he pounced on the cereal with no regards to how messy or crazed he looked. Manners were in the back of his mind at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey didn't say anything. He simply watched the strange little man eat as fast as could, almost like he was afraid to lose what little food he had at any moment. He stared, face blank as he watched the man intently. Benrey zoned out, once again taking in every little detail about his strange guest; stubbled chin, small scar over his left eye, his right arm marred with scars and healing cuts.</p><p> </p><p>"Could you... not keep staring at me?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey was pulled out of his stupor with the man's words, and picked up his bowl to tip it to drink the sugary milk. The little guy turned back to his meal, hesitantly, still keeping his eyes at a careful watch. He paused for a moment, then gently nudged the man's side, "what's your, uh, real name, cringeman?"</p><p> </p><p>The little guy yelped in surprise, jumping away from the spoon and the offending hand. He sat on the table to keep his legs from shaking, chest heaving as he craned his neck to meet Benrey's lazy yet curious stare, "What? <em>Why</em>? Why would you want my name?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey shrugged, once again leaning forward to rest his head in his arms. The two were so close the little guy could reach out to kick Benrey's nose, something that Benrey was sure he'd take advantage of if he overstepped, "so i can know if you're not mean?"</p><p> </p><p>He scoffed, inching his way back just a bit more, "Know if <em>I'm</em> not mean? You're fucking <em>huge</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"kinda mean of you to, uh, interrupt my gaming before." Benrey teased, keeping a straight, uninterested face.</p><p> </p><p>The little guy looked shocked for a moment, mouth gaping before he snapped his jaw shut and landed a kick <em>square</em> on the bridge of Benrey's nose. He immediately got up, making space between the two of them as quickly as he could, pressing his back against the wall at the back of the desk.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey just stared, not recoiling from the kick or reaching out to grab the little guy, "...yeah, ouch?"</p><p> </p><p>His guest kept his back squared with the wall, tugging nervously at the strings fraying from the stitches at the bottom of his shirt, "You're crazy, man..." he muttered, his voice high pitched with disbelief. He almost laughed, the absurdity of the situation getting to him as a confused smile made its way onto his face, eyebrows knit together. There was a hint of a nervous laugh in his voice when he spoke next, "Seriously... what do you <em>want</em> from me?! Why are you still keeping me around?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey didn't have an answer for that, and he didn't have time to think of one before the little guy continued.</p><p> </p><p>"A-And..." he tittered, "You keep saying you have nothing in mind, but how am I supposed to believe that?" He paused, wiping his eyes of brimming tears as his voice softened to a more solemn tone, "You know, living here isn't easy and <em>you</em> aren't making it any easier. Neither of you."</p><p> </p><p>Benrey perked up at that, "holy shit you live here?" he questioned, looking around the room before turning back, "i've, like... never seen you before, man, what's up with that?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's... you're not <em>supposed</em> to see me. W-why would you think I'd let you know I live here?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey shrugged, "dunno. you did a couple hours ago, cringeman."</p><p> </p><p>The little guy huffed, "Yeah, out of desperation! You walked in on me as I was fucking <em>starving</em> and I couldn't take it anymore." His laugh was maniacal as he muttered, mostly to himself, "I've already broken nearly every fucking rule I can, why not one more!"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey checked the time. <em>Three in the morning</em>. He turned back to the strange little guest on his desk, "rules? you got rules?"</p><p> </p><p>He looked back at Benrey, his face painted with a tired frustration. He sighed, "Yeah... yeah, I have rules."</p><p> </p><p>"like, what, you got a curfew? little baby cringeman has—"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Alright</em>. Listen, man, now you're overstepping. I can't <em>tell</em> you the rules. That's just breaking another." Benrey didn't get it. If he'd already broken so many rules, what did he have to lose?</p><p> </p><p>When all Benrey could manage was a blank, though vaguely confused stare, the little guy just conceded. He slouched a bit, his body language mirroring his obvious exhaustion, "Just... know they all have to do with humans."</p><p> </p><p>Benrey paused for a moment, "i'm... not human." he muttered, leaning forward on his arms again.</p><p> </p><p>The little guy only scoffed at that.</p><p> </p><p>~•~</p><p> </p><p>Gordon still kept his distance from Benrey, breathing raggedy with every little movement he made. Though, he wasn't standing anymore in fear of his shaking legs would betray him. Gordon was... hesitant to share anymore about himself, even dealing with the abysmal name 'cringeman' for the time being.</p><p> </p><p>Oversharing - or, really sharing at all - to humans was a no go for borrowers. But Gordon had already broken the rules of upmost importance: don't be seen by beans, and if seen, <em>never</em> talk.</p><p> </p><p>Gordon blew it by a mile.</p><p> </p><p>And, Benrey was saying he wasn't human. Which, in all honesty... seemed to check out. He was paler than any bean he'd seen, that strange shadow permanent on his eyes, even without his hat on. He rarely seemed to sleep, and if he did he slept during the day. The strangest happenings Gordon had seen from Benrey were the luminescent, colorful bubbles that would occasionally flow from his mouth when he'd sing...</p><p> </p><p>Of course, those thoughts were <em>nonsense</em>. Gordon shook them off. Benrey was just... weird.</p><p> </p><p>He also had a problem with staring; he'd gaze directly at Gordon, face blank, until something snapped him out of it. Most of the time, it was Gordon waving a hand or chastising him for doing it again. Every time he caught Benrey staring, he'd feel a strange burning on the back of his neck, like hot water hitting a sunburn.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't something he was used to. But it also wasn't something unheard of. Growing up, he'd heard of borrowers that had a latent ability to catch whenever a human's eyes passed over them. It helped them get out of scrapes, knowing whenever a had caught a glimpse. Usually, they'd move immediately.</p><p> </p><p>Gordon, as an outside borrower most of his life, never really had to deal with the risk of humans seeing him. So, when he moved into the Coolatta apartment for the winter, the sensation was worrying to say the least. Though, occasionally he'd feel a tingle when Tommy's eyes passed over anywhere he was hiding during the day, nothing compared to the <em>burning</em> he'd felt from Benrey.</p><p> </p><p>He hated it, and he wanted out of that gaze as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p>"So, are you going to let me go anytime soon? Can I get going?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey just shrugged, not taking his eyes off Gordon or changing his blank stare, "yeah man. nothin's keeping you here."</p><p> </p><p>Gordon looked... perplexed, "A-Alotta things are keeping me here, actually."</p><p> </p><p>"whuh? like what?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Wow</em>. Gordon sighed, "Okay. One, you have my hook. Two, you have my knife. Three, well, <em>you</em>." Gordon listed, not breaking eye contact despite that incessant burning and his concealed shivering.</p><p> </p><p>It took a moment to process before Benrey stood, maybe a bit faster than Gordon would have liked. He stood there, then looked down at Gordon to offer an upturned palm, "so do you, like, want a lift or somethin', cringeman?"</p><p> </p><p>Gordon sharply inhaled in shock of the hand approaching him, but exhaled in a long, slow hiss. As much he hated the idea of stepping right into the hands of his greatest enemy, to feel those eyes on him even longer...</p><p> </p><p>Well, he didn't really have a choice, did he?</p><p> </p><p>He took one hesitant step onto the man's palm, testing the sturdiness of the muscle below his feet. It was firm, but forgiving, like a stiff mattress. Though, stepping on his hand revealed to Gordon that the man was... strangely cold. He barely radiated heat, making Gordon's newfound position sitting cross legged in the center of the man's palm surprisingly comfortable (if he could ignore the rest of the giant attached to the hand). It wasn't stifling, just a gentle, lukewarm blanket of body heat.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey crossed his thumb over Gordon's midsection, giving the man something to hold onto as he lifted his hand from the desk. He curled his fingers slightly, and made his way out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Watching the world past by from this perspective was incredible, the hallway that once would take Gordon about ten minutes to walk down disappeared in a matter of seconds. He almost laughed in disbelief, but the staggering fear of being five feet off the ground was enough to keep his mouth shut. Everything about the situation was extremely overwhelming: the rough patterns of fingerprints on Benrey's thumb, the shallow grooves and wrinkles of his palm, the faint beat of his heart as he held Gordon to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't exactly trust Benrey, but, for what it was worth, he didn't feel <em>uncomfortable</em>, either.</p><p> </p><p>The trip was short, though, taking the man less than twenty seconds to reach where Gordon had left his makeshift hook lodged into the countertop. Benrey placed his hand flat on the table, and Gordon quickly dismounted. Gordon stood there for a moment, staring at the man's hand as he pulled it back into his hoodie pocket to dig for the little blade he had pocketed before, then pulled himself out of his thoughts to coil the thread of his hook.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey held the disembodied craft blade between two fingers, slouching just a bit to pass it back to Gordon. He took it reluctantly and attached it to its proper place on his belt. It was comforting having it there, imbuing Gordon with a small sense of confidence he didn't have before. He craned his neck to stare once more at the man high above him, "Thanks, man. For, ah... everything."</p><p> </p><p>Benrey looked slightly shocked, then covered his vulnerability with a small shrug, "no problem. still gotta keep an eye on you, though. dunno if you're mean or not, cringeman."</p><p> </p><p>Gordon actually snorted, "Uh... Gordon. My name is Gordon Freeman."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>feetman</em>?!" Benrey exclaimed, eyes widening and smile growing, "oh, baller name, bro! poggers gordon feetman telling me his name..."</p><p> </p><p>"I shouldn't have told you." Gordon muttered, a hint of humor showing through his exasperation. He turned his back, walking over to the countertop's ledge, rappelling down to the ground with practiced expertise. He stood at the faux outlet cover that had been taped over Tommy at some point of their time there.</p><p> </p><p>Benrey, who had been quiet since he learned his name, spoke up as Gordon stepped through the opening into the wall, "so, feetman, can i see you again?"</p><p> </p><p>Gordon froze, "I, well... I can't do that." He looked up at the man, who looked upset, and it - honest to god - hurt him a bit. But it was what needed to be done. He smiled, "But... thanks again. Sorry for all the yelling, I guess." He turned, getting ready to close the outlet behind him before he was stuck by a thought, "You, uh, you won't tell Tommy about me, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Benrey hesitated before shaking his head, "nah. you're my secret bro, bro. see ya, feetman."</p><p> </p><p>Gordon just laughed, pulling the outlet closed. He stood for a moment, taking a long, deep breath of the musty, dust-filled air of the inner walls, then sighed. Slowly, he made his way home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*pulls everyone who has read this so far into a long hug* this probably won’t be the end, just the end of a part one-ish type thing. my power is currently out but i wanted this posted TONIGHT and by god will i MAKE it post tonight. once again thanks to frostios stream and da chat for kissing me (and also letting me talk to phantomlore) as well as rem in the brainrot server!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>benrey can't hide from tommy, and borrowers aren't invincible.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey guys :blush: its 5am ova here but if i didn't get this chapter done tonight id drive myself through a wall. thank you to tuna (@tunyahghost) for beta reading this chapter and helping me make it 10x better!! they are very sweet and also a great writer PLEASE check out their fic &lt;3<br/>little warning for sickness and mention of injury! nothin too bad though</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It'd been about a week since Benrey had last seen Gordon. He spent the week the same as he always did, but infinitely more careful of where he stepped, how quickly he moved around the apartment when he left his room. He'd lower the T.V. when he'd play games at night, keeping his chatter to a minimum. Occasionally, a bowl or two with a bit of food left at the bottom would be accidentally 'forgotten' on the kitchen counter, hoping that Gordon would take advantage of his so-called 'forgetfulness' and feed himself before Tommy would clean it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey accepted the fact that he'd probably never see the little guy again, but he didn't want to let his guard down, just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strangely </span>
  <em>
    <span>respectful</span>
  </em>
  <span> behavior of the man who never seemed to care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy had picked up on Benrey's change fairly quickly. He could read the man like an open book; </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>was bothering him. Benrey would step cautiously when he once would lumber around the apartment, socked feet shuffling in a slow, lazy gait. When their hours of being awake lined up, he'd catch Benrey turning at every small sound and watching every step he took. Sometimes, and this was a dead giveaway to his troubled state, he'd just... stare at a spot on the wall for a couple of seconds before pulling himself out of his trance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually, Tommy would just brush off his behavior as another one of Benrey's weird quirks, though this time he couldn't just give it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the middle of a heated round of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tekken</span>
  </em>
  <span> before bed, Tommy brought up his concerns. He nudged the man on the couch next to him without taking his eyes off the screen, "Um... H-Have you been alright recently, Benrey?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey didn't falter, "yeah bro, i've been doin' epic. what's up?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy just shrugged. Unlike Benrey, his focus swayed from the high kicks and low grunts of the characters on the screen, "W-Well, sometimes... I catch you staring at the walls! O-Or, you leave your food out unfinished. I know you're messy b-but, this is new!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey hadn't realized how obvious he'd been the past week. His eyes widened a bit, losing focus of the game he was playing as thoughts and scenarios where he and Gordon were found out rushed through his head, letting Tommy get in a couple of hits. He recovered, but not enough to stop Tommy from knocking out his character. Tommy placed down his controller with a bright smile, though his grin fell with Benrey's expression, "Y-You aren't okay, are you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearly, Benrey's recovery wasn't fast enough, both in-game and in real life. Emotions were uncharacteristic for the man and Tommy was quick to pick up on that. The minute his body betrayed his stoic facade, Tommy knew something was wrong. He held his controller in his lap, leaning back into the couch with yet another false smile, "i, uh, don't know what you're talking about, bro." he shrugged, "just pausin' the game sometimes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn't completely believe him. But, there really wasn't much he could do. If Benrey didn't want to talk, Benrey </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk. He stood up, stretching his long, lanky frame before sighing, "O-Ok... If you need anything, Sunkist and I are j-just a room over!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The massive dog at Tommy's side gave a reassuring </span>
  <em>
    <span>woof</span>
  </em>
  <span>, nuzzling Benrey's hand with her snout. Benrey snorted, and with a soft smile, muttered, "thank you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy went to sleep after that, Sunkist following loyally behind him as he closed the door to his bedroom with a barely audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The minute he was gone, Benrey buried his face in his hands with a tired groan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon wasn't going to be happy with him. It shouldn't have mattered, the little guy wasn't going to be showing himself anytime soon, but he couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart that Gordon would be upset with his carelessness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey sunk further into the couch, starting up another round, this time against a computer. He couldn't get his mind off Gordon since the time he last saw him, dropping him off and sending him home with a little more than just a goodbye. He thought he'd been careful to not give anything away to his roommate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> careful?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If only Gordon hadn't interrupted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was getting cold. Too cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the fall season waned into winter, the temperatures dropped. Despite the insulation of the wall, Gordon was shivering. He wrapped himself in every bit of fabric he could, tearing up the scraps of his nest and haphazardly fashioning them into a patchwork shawl. It was thick, quilted from anything he could get his hands on; fleeces, cottons, nylons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still wasn't enough. But, he was sweating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why was he sweating?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon pulled himself into a ball, wrapped as tightly as could be in the center of his nest. Every part of his was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but he still shivered, still couldn't seem to keep out the creeping cold of winter through the walls. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn't see straight, his whole line of vision painfully dizzy, his stomach turning back to nausea with every little movement of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His arms were sore, shaking as he pushed himself to stand. Legs like rubber, he slouched miserably, coughing up whatever was obstructing his throat, whatever was causing the dry, pained wheeze with every aching breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gordon was sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd been careless the last few weeks, his run-in with Benrey overtaking every waking thought. He didn't notice the temperature begin to drop or the insulation of his burrow being to fail. He didn't notice he was coming down with a tickle in his throat and an everlasting fatigue until it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too late.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon spent another day like this, wallowing in the wrapped up scraps of his quilted blanket, not bothering to get a meal for the day or stock up on resources for the rest of the week, despite him running low. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, as the sickness only worsened. Again, he hadn't eaten, though this time only for a day, the nausea not letting him keep anything down. Not even bland oyster crackers and lukewarm water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like his body was out to get him. No eating meant no energy, no energy meant no healing; he was stuck in a vicious cycle of illness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, he struggled to stand, then, in a daze, shuffled his way into the darkened tunnels, blanket still wrapped tightly around him. Every sound was dull, distant, drowned out by the constant pounding of his unbearable headache. Nothing seemed to be in the right place; a turn was too early, a straight going on for too long, tunnels taking him directly into dead ends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until he stood on the top cabinet of the kitchen counter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't remembered getting there, just the overload of his senses from the warping reality of sickness. Though, what was now clear as day was the realization that it was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>colder</span>
  </em>
  <span> out here, the borrower no longer protected by the thin layer of insulation within the walls. Water dripped slowly from the mouth of the sink's faucet, only worsening the dehydration he felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, what was more </span>
  <em>
    <span>concerning </span>
  </em>
  <span>was that Benrey sat about fifteen feet away from him, sunk pitifully into the couch cushions. If Gordon wasn't so miserable, he may have laughed at the sorry state of the man. That is, until he caught the look on his face. Benrey looked tired, upset almost as he mindlessly fought the shoddily programmed computer, though he seemed to struggle. His head wasn't in the game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, neither was Gordon's apparently, as his body moved before his brain. In a sickened haze, dazed and confused, Gordon lodged his hook clumsily into the dusty wood of the cabinet. He slid down the rope, without the normal practiced ease of his daily life. Rope burn tore his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to notice it, his head clouded with fever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every instinct told him to run, but the uncomfortable feeling of cottonmouth yelled otherwise. He could hear the gentle tapping of the water dripping from the loose faucet fittings, and his body begged for a bit of the water, his mouth only getting drier as his tongue began to feel as if it would shrivel up. Breathing through his mouth for the past day, paired with his horrible inability to keep down any liquids and the burning of his through from his constant coughing left him pained and dehydrated. He had already spit up any remaining water reserves he'd kept in his nest, and the call of that easily accessible water source was enough to cloud his judgment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew Benrey was right there. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> the man could turn with any little sound he made, any of the little coughs he tried so hard to stifle. But at the moment he didn't care. Without water, he would never get better. His stomach was empty, he was dehydrated, nothing was allowing him to heal. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the other half of his brain fought back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows you're here, he can see you, he knows your name, he knows where you live, you'll never make it out alive—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The arguments were fruitless. Gordon's desperation was more important. He had to feel that cool water on his burning skin, had to feel it pass his lips. He hated being sick, he couldn't take it anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He always seems to be desperate, huh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such is the life of a borrower. He squinted his eyes, flicking his wrist to release the hook from it’s anchored position. Then another flick and a tug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, leaving the hook lodged. He'd be quick, anyway. The T.V. flickered, illuminating the stainless steel of the faucet. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so close.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gordon's legs felt like rubber, his arms even more so, the sink so close yet so far. Every step was taxing, not to mention the daunting task of getting up to the dripping water. He was exhausted. Sick of it. Tired of </span>
  <em>
    <span>being</span>
  </em>
  <span> sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, he didn't want to do this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn't like the view from up here. Strange thing to say, but being a foot off the countertop was... too much for Gordon's clouded head, getting vertigo from the short distance. His head spun, his loose grip beginning to slip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon couldn’t stop it. He fell. From the weakness in his arms to the bit of water and sweat dampening his hands, he didn’t have the strength to hold on. So he fell. It was only about a foot to the cluttered bottom of the sink, but it hurt like <em>hell</em>. His already tired, sore body hit the metal like a bag of bricks, burning with the immediate pain of a pounding headache and the tender burn of what was, hopefully <em>only</em>, a sprained wrist. He hissed, gripping his injury in an iron fist, his eyes glued shut in pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course it had to be his dominant arm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a painful couple seconds of silence that stretched into what felt like hours, then there was a hesitant, uncertain mumble, “...feetman?” There was a frantic scramble as Benrey hopped up from the couch, not even bothering to pause the game on the T.V. as his character continued to catch a beat down. He hurried into the kitchen, socked feet on cold linoleum, scanning the kitchen countertop only to find no sign of Gordon, aside from the hook dangling from the cabinet. "hey, bro..." he smacked his lips, "uh. where you campin'...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The water from the tap dripped steadily on Gordon, only allowing the freezing air of the apartment to penetrate his skin even further. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just like he'd wanted, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon thought grimly, his miscalculations obvious. He shivered, teeth chattering, "I'm, ah... I'm in the sink."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey leaned his head over the basin, slowly, like he was afraid to see the state of the little man among the dirty pots and pans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon had to fight the urge to laugh as tears brimmed his eyes, “Hey, Benrey...” he croaked.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>mama mia! my name-a is emmy!! im-a insecure about my writing!! ohhh!! i am slow and clumsy with writing so i will. Get To A Better Plotline Soon Hopefully. EITHER WAY thank you to everyone who has read so far *big kiss* yes i will say this every chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon's still sick, and benrey doesn't know anything about humans.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello everybody. i finished this chapter at 5am last night, like i do, and then sent it to be beta read. WELL when i woke up this morning to those comments made by my lovely friend and beta reader tuna, i realized 90% of what i wrote was. incoherent. to tuna: i apologize. it is now 3pm and i looked over the changes i made and just went ok fuck it. and here we are. ANYWAY kisses have fun &lt;3<br/>ONCE AGAIN warning for sickness and injury. nothing graphic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Benrey's head eclipsed the remaining bit of light coming from the T.V. as he slowly lifted his head to find his little guest, fingers curled over the lip of the sink. When he spotted a shivering Gordon curled up as tightly as he could bear, he brought his hands closer—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"D-Don't... Please." Gordon muttered, his voice ambivalent. "Just... listen to me, alright man?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey, surprisingly, nodded as he drew his hands away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, the breath coming out in a shaking croak, "My arm, something happened. And I... don't feel great, okay?" He didn't move, just opened his eyes to stare at the man looming above him, "This is all... new to me. I-I haven't been sick since I was, I don't know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirteen</span>
  </em>
  <span> or some shit."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"...wait, feetman, how old—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Man, why do you keep your apartment so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> cold!?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"...wha?" Benrey paused for a moment, standing up a little straighter. He hadn't realized the temperature had begun to drop, the freezing air not really affecting his already cool skin. He shrugged, "i, uh, didn't feel it." He didn't know why he or Tommy didn't realize it sooner. Thin crystals of frost crept up the windowpanes every night, melting in the morning sun. Occasionally there'd be a bit of snowfall, though it was never anything to write home about. Benrey not noticing the change was expected, the man wasn't very observant and it didn't help that he couldn't feel it, but Tommy never becoming aware was... strange.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn't put much more thought into it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was quiet, just the couple of sentences he had rasped out loud enough for Benrey to hear was enough to tire him out. The pain from falling, his burning wrist, and his shallow breathing inhibited just about any chance of talking at the moment. He just lay there, defeated in a quickly cooling puddle of dripping tap water... he took a deep breath, then let it out in a slow, pained sigh, "Could you just, uh. Take me outta the sink and put me on the counter again...?" He tried to laugh, though it came out more as a dry cough, gesturing to his swelling wrist, "Can't do much without a hand, hah..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn't make a sound, just slowly blinked at the man before comprehending what he was asked. He smirked, maybe a bit too cocky for Gordon's liking, though the little man didn't say anything about it, "little baby gordon gonna trust benrey? gordon's not a chicken-hat?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent, empty air filled with nothing but Gordon's weak glare, "I... whatever. J-Just be careful, alright?" He braced himself as Benrey's hands moved closer, "Don't make me regret this, man..." he mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The confident smirk was wiped clean off Benrey's face as he lowered his hands to the bottom of the basin, the tip of his tongue caught between a set of unusually pointed teeth as he focused on his movements. He brought his hands to rest on a dirty plate next to Gordon, hesitating before nudging his dark, painted fingers beneath Gordon's back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The little guy didn't do anything, but Benrey could feel Gordon’s heart begin to race and see his eyes snap shut with a soft, nervous tic. He took him into his palm, back flat, not wanting to jostle him or aggravate his injury. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey's skin was... cold? Colder than his own, at least, and it was... strangely nice. Despite his shivering form and dampened clothes, Gordon was still inexplicably </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He leaned into the man's grasp, resting his head in the crook of one of Benrey's fingers. Maybe he wiped a bit of sweat onto him, but Benrey didn't need to know that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey lifted him, slowly, though held him steady in his hand just before putting him down onto the kitchen counter. He hesitated, "you're like. really hot, bro."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I-I'm... I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon exclaimed with a painful crack of his near broken voice, exasperated and confused at the timing of the comment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"yeah you're like. hot." Benrey shrugged, "all sweaty and gross. what's up with that, man?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh." Gordon sighed, relaxing as he packed up his bag and attempted to wring out his patchwork shawl, though the action was near impossible without a second hand, "I thought you meant— nevermind. Y-Yeah. I told you I'm sick."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey rested his chin on the edge of the kitchen counter, hands gripped lightly around the bevel of the countertop, "wuh, like, you wanna kiss or something? we can—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Absolutely not." Gordon shut him down as quickly as he could get his words back, clicking his jaw shut with the denial. Benrey looked a little defeated, and Gordon continued with a cough, "Look, I just need a little water and some food. I-I can handle myself."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"what? no."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"you can't go, bro. you're sick." Benrey leaned forward, his eyes widened with an intent stare before he practically begged, "come on... we can play online with josh, like best friends!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was stopped in his tracks, "We </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren't</span>
  </em>
  <span> best friends!" he held a hand to his pulsing forehead, Benrey's voice far too loud despite the man's mumbling. His yelling was starting to become too much, and he was hit with yet another dizzy spell, "We... </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> met me yesterday!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey's face dropped, his eyes getting a little wider as it almost looked like he was upset. He hid his mouth below the edge of the countertop, leaving just his eyes visible, paired with a now muffled, disappointed voice, "why are you saying this? i thought we were friends—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The headache only got worse, and Gordon didn't remember when he'd sat down to quell the shaking of his body, the rubber feeling in his legs. He held his head pitifully between his knees. Benrey's low rumbling was too powerful when the man was less than a foot away; overwhelming, stifling, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deafening</span>
  </em>
  <span>... he clapped his hands over his ears, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was quiet, his voice trailing off with a slow drawl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon felt worse than he had been for the last couple of days, worse than when he had been fighting the nerves of leaving his family nest, worse than he had been being held unknowingly by Benrey for the first time. Every muscle ached, his throat sore and dry, his mouth watering like he was moments away from vomiting. And he nearly did, retching and gagging on the mucus caught in his throat, the lack of food mixed with the burn of bile in his esophagus upsetting his stomach even further. Gordon groaned. All he wanted to do was lay down and go back to sleep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey just watched, expression blank, not moving from his position off the corner of the countertop. Gordon was horribly pale, though his face was flushed a bright red. He shivered as he sweat, which was wrong, based on what Benrey knew about humans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Based on what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn't know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about humans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"hey, uh, feetman... what are you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was distracted, but he took the time to scoff at the inopportune timing of that question. He didn't answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"bro are you like. human?" When Benrey didn't get an immediate response, he pressed further, "please? tell me what you are, please thank you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"S-Something like that... okay?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey nodded, then went to stand, pushing off the edge of the kitchen counter and returning back to his looming stance over Gordon. He didn't say a word as he turned to walk away, only to stop dead in his tracks at Gordon’s panicked voice, "H-Hey, man, wait. Where are you going? What're you doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged, turning back around to meet the little guy's eyes, taking another opportunity to rib him a little bit, "wha? i'm not goin' anywhere bro. i'm standing here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon stood up slowly, stumbling a little bit and swaying on his feet as he gripped the sides of his head, hissing in pain as the tender section of his wrist bent to palm his forehead, "You were going somewhere..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"i was gonna go get tommy. he knows about human stuff."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Gordon was shaking again, though this time not from sickness. His heart leapt into his throat, bile following shortly after, and he had to keep himself from losing whatever lunch he was able to keep down a couple of hours ago. Head pounding, vision blurry with spectacular colors, he spoke again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, "Benrey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>... Y-You can't. Please, I-I can take care of myself, I just need to fuckin', leave!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a bout of silence, interrupted only by Gordon's haggard breathing, until Benrey mumbled, "you're like. dying or something." he awkwardly scratched his hair, hand reaching slowly under his hoodie as he continued to walk towards the hallway, "kinda... kinda sucks, bro. tommy's cool, we're best friends. he can help."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" Gordon's head shot up, "Benrey you don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I can't fuckin' do this shit! I can’t meet Tommy, meeting you was enough. I should have fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> already, but I can’t. Why don’t you understand that?!” he interrupted his frantic rant with a hacking cough, tears starting to fall from his eyes in misery, “If I almost freeze in the walls, I’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> freeze outside, alright man? I-I can’t go back to being an outside borrower again, not like this!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gordon clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide as he released a slow, shaky breath. He didn’t know when he had fallen back down again, hadn’t realized when Benrey had wordlessly scooped him up into his palms. All he knew was he had just broken the only rule he had managed to protect up until now. And, that he was now eclipsed once again by those cold, calloused hands as Benrey headed towards the last door at the end of the dark hall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t go back to being an outside borrower. It’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>two years, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wouldn’t make it. Not without help, not alone. Especially </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he was sick. But, anything was better than meeting another human. He’d rather face the harsh outdoors than the unpredictability of Benrey’s roommate. Gordon didn’t even attempt to fight back, didn’t do much at all, really. He just... lay there, curled up slightly as silent, tearless sobs wracked his fragile form. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> compliant. That was, until he heard the creak of a bedroom door and Benrey’s muffled call for Tommy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im doing a gay little dance atop this chapter. it seems i love to avoid writing tommy AND ive changed the way i write benrey a little bit. NEXT TIME. i promise i will write tommy. all of the flu symptoms i wrote for gordon were based off my symptoms last time i had the flu in like. november. and i couldn't move for a full damn week! and then my mom made me go to thanksgiving the same day i threw up so that was fun. ANYWAY now that im done spilling my life story: NEXT CHAPTER MIGHT TAKE A BIT LONGER THAN USUAL! i am moving out to go to college fairly soon so i apologize &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon has a case of the crumbles, and tommy knows a bit about human health.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well Well Well this is the earliest ive ever posted a chapter. i think. shoutout to tuna who woke up to me in their dms throwing this chapter down like a fuckin FOOTBALL at the superbowl. Welcome To Tommy. am i proud of how ive written him? no but its good enough. EITHER WAY have fun<br/>WARNING AGAIN for sickness/injury though its not explicit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"tommy!" Benrey stage whispered, more of a hiss into the dark room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he heard was the grumpy groan of a sleeping dog waking up, the soft clinks of her tags scraping up against each other. The second was a long yawn, then the click of a bedside lamp being flicked on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Sunkist were both in bed, cuddled up into each other like they were perfectly fit for it; Tommy, tall and lanky enough to hold the peculiarly oversized dog, cradled her gently in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck. They both stretched, almost in tandem. Tommy gave the dog a loving pat on the head, then turned to meet the dimly-glowing eyes of his roommate. He smiled, softly, lips upturning into a tired grin with a hint of sparkling teeth, "Hi."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were both light sleepers, and Tommy expected a visit from his eccentric roommate the minute he heard the T.V. pause and Benrey began to speak in a low mumble; gently, like he was trying not to scare something away. What for, he didn't quite know yet, but the atypical expression of uncertainty on his face was enough to tell him it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Benrey didn't show any of his emotions that would leave him vulnerable, only the occasional teasing smirk or mocking laugh breaking past his stony barrier. Benrey was rarely actually... genuine. And if he was, no one could tell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one but Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn't even say a word, but Tommy was already on his feet, shuffling forward in a tired shamble. Sunkist followed shortly after, nudging her head into Benrey's side, happily panting, though her eyes held a spark of concern. "W-What's wrong, Benrey?" Tommy prodded, interrupting himself with another yawn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"gordon."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy paused, his reassuring smile turning into one of baffled confusion, "...W-Who?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey's eyes flickered to his hands, Tommy's following suit. It was silent for a moment, before Benrey spoke again, a repeated statement of "</span>
  <em>
    <span>gordon</span>
  </em>
  <span>" though this time he was much more urgent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Benrey, a-are you okay? Seriously?" He looked around the room, unsure, only to meet an equally panicked stare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A stare that was sickened and weak and tired, brimmed with tears and paired with swollen eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was directed at Tommy not from the man in front of him, but from the man's </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>. From the minuscule person sitting square in his roommate's palms, dwarfed by the cold, rough wall of fingers surrounding him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon couldn't breathe. Every sensation was too overwhelming, and the returning tingle at the back of his neck wasn't doing much to distract him from the ever-present burning he had almost grown used to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last few minutes were a blur. Every second before his unwarranted grand reveal felt like it stretched into hours as he weakly pounded on Benrey's palms, catching whatever slivers of Tommy's bedroom he could through the cracks between Benrey's fingers. Hearing Benrey mutter his name to his roommate was too much for Gordon. But, he kept slamming his uninjured fist against his captor. No response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't know what he was hoping for, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from trying. Trying would do him no good, but continuing to struggle...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he had to grasp onto the little hope that it gave him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that thread of hope and trust was crushed as the dim, warm light of the lamp on the bedside table flooded his eyes when Benrey pulled away his hand. Gordon froze, and that's when he could feel that unpleasant, unnerving tingle at the back of his neck, like T.V. static. He didn't want to move, but his body betrayed him. He shivered, shook as he stood on the unsteady cushion of Benrey's palm. Currently, his only defense against the new man in the room was one thing; Gordon kept his back turned, refusing to meet Tommy's eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon just wanted to crumble. He could hear the man take a step forward, cotton-striped pajamas shuffling with the step. He thought he could feel the man's breath wash over his back as he leaned forward to get a closer look. Gordon held his breath, his eyes shut tight as he fought every instinct to run as a long, thin finger rose up to prod at his side, only to drop before it could actually touch him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the warm breath was gone, and the looming shadow cast by the man's form against the dim light receded. Gordon's heart leapt into this throat, and he was deafened by the sound of its beating.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was, until the men above him began to speak again. Their voices consumed his every thought, occupying his mind like a stifling cage. Despite how quiet or reserved they were trying to be, he couldn't shake it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Benrey... what— </span>
  <em>
    <span>w-who</span>
  </em>
  <span> is this?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"uh. gordon... freeman."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to cover his ears to drown it out, and for a moment it worked. Then, the room was illuminated in a soft glow of light blue with the advent of a long, high note from Benrey. Gordon couldn't help but open his eyes, taking in the view in unabashed curiosity. It was nothing like he'd ever seen before. Sure, he'd seen the residue of light of various colors from under the threshold of Benrey's bedroom, but nothing like the phenomenon he was experiencing; near opaque spheres of light remained stagnant in the air, unmoving. They looked like soap bubbles, though they didn't float like them. It almost felt as if Gordon could reach out and touch them, hold them in his hands without them popping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed like this for a couple of moments, the room silent in the glow as Tommy was poised in a quiet thinking position, as if he was back at work trying to figure out a difficult equation. Eventually, the bubbles began to dim, their lights being snuffed out like flames, flickering out slowly as the bubbles dissipated in the air. Benrey shooed a few of the longer-lingering ones away with a wave and an embarrassed cough, his cheeks barely tinted with pink, though it would be hard to catch by anyone Benrey's size.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon felt... oddly calm, the shaking in his legs beginning to quell as he gained back his strength in his arms, and in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The men, who had continued to talk amidst the gentle blue glow and despite the presence of a mortified Gordon, finally looked down at the man's small, but now confident voice, "I'm right here, guys. I'm literally in your fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>." His voice was still painfully raspy, his eyes tearing up as he raised his voice, but nothing was going to stop him from getting his word out, "I... look, I'm already here. Just... do what you gotta do...? S-So I can go home, please?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent as Tommy shot Benrey a baffled look, leaning down once more to meet eyes with Gordon. He paused, thinking over his words, before answering with a simple, "H-Hello, Mr. Freeman...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon hesitated before snorting, the sentiment a little disrupted by the hacking that followed. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke with a cracking voice, "Hey, Tommy."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy smiled with a barely audible gasp, his eyes blown wide, "You know my name! It's good... it's n-nice to meet you!" He paused, not realizing exactly how close he had gotten while he spoke. Both he and Gordon took a small step backward, Tommy looking a bit bashful, "S-Sorry... Oh! Mr. Freeman, you don't look so good. You're very... pale? Do you... feel okay?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine, I can take care of myself. I just... need to go home. Alright?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey interrupted, his face straight, "he's lying. he's sick, bro."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey—</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Gordon spoke in tandem, Tommy's eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in obvious concern. Sunkist, hearing the worried tone of Tommy's voice, whimpered in response, saddling up to the man's side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This didn't do much to calm Gordon down. Seeing the larger-than-average dog only get closer did nothing to ease the pressure of the situation. Every instinct to escape the slowly approaching animal nearly overrode his common sense as he teetered on the brink of falling.  He sat down, finding a bit of stability in the heel of Benrey's hand, eyes locked on the dog's snout peeking over the edge of the palm. Gordon hissed as he accidentally directed a fraction of his weight onto his injured wrist. Tommy, who's blow-wide eyes were uncomfortably bright despite the dim room, noticed Gordon's frantic staring and urged the dog to sit. He smiled again, soft and kind, "Mr. Freeman, will you let me help? I may not be a doctor, but I know a lot about people!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hated it. Hated the staring and the burn on his neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hating</span>
  </em>
  <span> the subsequent burn in his throat with every word he spoke. He didn’t want to be stuck with the two humans - he’d rather be at home, safe - but the two seemed genuine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surprisingly </span>
  </em>
  <span>genuine. Gordon sat there for a couple of tense seconds, waiting for an 'if' or 'but' from the two men. But nothing came, and eventually he sighed, relenting to the offer, "Alright, man. I-I'm gonna trust you, okay? This... isn't easy for me, but I've got no choice, hah."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy just nodded, silent as he pushed past Benrey and into the living room, clearing a little space on the couch and stacking it high with spare blankets and sweatshirts laying around the apartment. He smiled at his handiwork as he waved Benrey over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey followed shortly after. He looked around the room; at the old recliner, spotting the manmade nest on the couch and the tall stack of freshly-laundered blankets Tommy had brought out from his room. Then it clicked, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>woah</span>
  </em>
  <span>..." he gasped, some semblance of a smile forming on his face, "sleepover tonight? sleepover with the boys?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> don't call it that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both the men looked visually disappointed, Benrey's shoulders slumping and Tommy pausing midway through precisely folding a blanket. His smile dropped, and for some reason, Gordon... felt bad? But, he had to stick to his guns; he wanted to go home, and if it meant shattering a couple of hopes to do so, he had to take what he could get. He coughed, "I'm not... shooing you two away, alright? Just don't call it a sleepover, I'm only staying for one night."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"man. do you like, know what a sleepover is—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"This whole operation may be a little ham-fisted and I'm fuckin' </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I think you mean well." He paused for a moment, craning his neck to meet Benrey's eyes, still obscured by that strange shadow, "Just, uh, put me down, okay? Gently, please?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey obliged, lowering the back of his palm flat in the center of Tommy's hand-crafted nest. He watched intently as Gordon scrambled off, favoring his injured wrist as he slid out of Benrey's grasp. Gordon was quick to get comfortable, huddling up in the plethora of fabric to fight the cold, shedding his dampened shawl and tossing it out of the pile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was miserable, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> miserable, the previous events of the last couple minutes really taking a toll on him. Now that he wasn't freezing or swaying, his exhaustion was beginning to hit. But, he couldn't fall asleep, not just yet. Benrey leaned his back against the couch, head resting on the seat cushion just next to Gordon, while Tommy stood idly by, "Mr. Freeman... can you- could you tell me what's wrong? I, uh, could get you a-anything you need? I don't know about medicine, though..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Medicine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gordon grimaced. Medicine wasn't an easy commodity to find for borrowers, so most decided not to use it. Plus, the risk of taking too much was too high for a lot of borrowers to even consider it. Really, everything Gordon had done with these two humans was way too much for any other borrower, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around, watching the slow rise and fall of Benrey's chest as the man dozed off a bit, catching Tommy's bright eyes reflecting the still menu screen of Benrey's paused game. He cleared his throat, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as he began to explain, low and raspy, and Tommy stepped forward to listen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't like the closeness. Not at all. But he liked the stuffy feeling in his head, the constant nausea, and lack of ability in his right hand even less. He may have given up his life as an outside borrower for the cushy living of the Coolatta household, but he wasn’t lacking in instincts; there was no way he’d make it in his state, battered and sick as he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>He tightened his grip on the fabric draped around his shoulders, the last thing keeping him grounded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was just a risk he was going to have to take.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG!! a bitch (me) is in college now! all moved in and sexy and good. to make up for it this chapter is around 2.2k words which is kinda long for me. if the chapters start to get more spread out i apologize... i got classes all week... if anyones got suggestions/wanna talk to me/yell at me/whatever im also very active on discord (lonelycactus#9599) so Dont Be Shy. if anyone is shy its me. you may deal with my customer service voice at first but ill warm up. OK KISSES!! its 9:30 in New Yawk and i am a little sleepy &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tommy and gordon do some chatting, and sleepover moments with the boys</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a heem heem whimper. HELLO!! Well. this is a shorter one but i quite like it. distracting myself from the project i gotta have a roughcut of by sunday for a class and posting this!! anyway. im listening to the raving rabbids version of satisfaction by the rolling stones. masterpiece. HAVE FUN READING!!<br/>WARNING FOR DESCRIPTION OF INJURY!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy wasn't exactly human, either. He'd figured that out a long time ago, after spending a couple of years with the Science Team and observing his father's own strange... quirks. Really, no one in the Science Team was completely human. Dr. Coomer was chock-full of cybernetics, Dr. Bubby had grown up in a tube, and Benrey was... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn't need to know that just yet. All that mattered at the moment was keeping the man comfortable, and learning that the two giants in the room with him were </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span> than humans would have the opposite effect. Benrey had dozed off a little while ago, still locked in the position he took when he first placed Gordon down; neck bent back to rest his head on the couch cushion, right next to Gordon's newfound nest. Tommy, on the other hand, was now wide awake, listening to every complaint about how the little guy felt that Gordon could list in a near-endless run-on sentence, interjected only by coughs and a couple of sardonic laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the end of his rant, Tommy nodded, thinking about his childhood and all the times he had been sick. He hummed, "Mr. Freeman, I-I think you have the flu!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was hesitant to deflect the diagnosis, the reality of the situation truly beginning to sink in. He waved it off, but didn't answer directly. He didn't want to think too much about the possibility of being sick, though he knew he was. Borrowers didn't get sick. He sighed, "What about my arm?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"B-By what you told me, I believe it could be sprained... Do you- would you mind if I got a better look?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon's heart dropped, defensively cradling his arm closer to his chest. He hunched his shoulders, leaning back against the pile of fabric behind him, sinking deeper into the nest, "What? What for...? Can't you just look at it from there?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gave an apologetic smile, "Y-You're very small, Mr. Freeman..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon scoffed, his mouth hanging open at Tommy's offhand comment. He wasn't small! Well, he wasn't small for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>borrower</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at least... It didn't matter, human or borrower alike, no one was going to call Gordon Freeman small. He defiantly stuck out his hand, giving Tommy the okay with a curt nod of his head. He didn't speak, only averting his eyes as the man moved closer each and every nerve and instinct jumping to adjust to the new changes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy moved slowly, as to not startle the little man. He kneeled next to Benrey's sleeping form, not bothering to wake him up; he wouldn't have, either way, Benrey had </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> slept like the dead. Gordon still had to crane his neck to look at Tommy, the human still freakishly tall despite his attempt to kneel. It almost made him want to pull his hand away, but he couldn't. It was too late to give in, he had to go through with this or he'd never get better. He'd rather deal with a couple of uncomfortable seconds than years with a constantly pained, potentially useless arm. So, he stayed. Whatever Tommy planned had to be better than leaving his arm as dead weight. Plus, he was just looking. What harm could he even do?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that's what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hadn't expected Tommy to raise up one hand. Hadn't expected him to reach out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>grasp his arm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gordon couldn't do anything to stop it. He watched, petrified, as that long, thin hand approached him; he couldn't move. Tommy took his arm between two fingers, his forefinger and thumb holding his upper arm in a loose pinch, the rest of his arm draping over Tommy's middle finger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon's heart raced, chest heaving as he tried to get as much air in his lungs as possible to avoid passing out. Tommy was so close, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gordon's breath barely tousled his thick, dark-brown hair. But, he was so... </span>
  <em>
    <span>gentle</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All he did was lightly hold his arm; no pinching, no pulling, no roughness at all. From such a huge guy, it was shocking. Gordon had expected his arm to be pulled out of its socket at least. Those hands had no right to be as delicate as they were. Gordon laughed manically, his nerves starting to get the best of him, and he couldn't get ahold of his emotions. It wasn't a laugh of happiness, but a frantic, nervous cackle, "H-Hey man... what're you doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I-I'm trying to get a better look at your arm..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon gulped as the man leaned back a bit, but kept his arm in between his fingers. The skin was swollen, tender, and purple from the wrist to his elbow. The pressure didn't make it hurt more than it had been, Tommy didn't seem to be agitating it at all, but just looking at the mangled state of the limb made Gordon feel sick. Dizzy. His uninjured arm searched for a place to steady himself, to bring him down from the dizzy spell he was struggling to shake. He nodded, "So, is it okay?" he gave the arm a slight, painful tug, resulting in another sharp hiss, "I-I'd, uh, like my arm back... hah."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy quickly let go of the little limb, sitting back on his heels and giving a small, concerned sigh. His brow furrowed in apology, "I... don't think so, Mr. Freeman..." He leaned over Benrey, pulling the chain of the desk lamp on the side table next to the couch, "Could you put your arm out for me?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Gordon obliged, Tommy steadied it with one finger, resting Gordon's hand on the soft skin of his fingertip. With another finger, he gestured to the swollen lump on the junction of his hand and forearm, and the subsequent bruising surrounding the area. Though, what was most worrying was the unnatural bend of his wrist; almost like the bones were going in two separate directions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon suddenly couldn't hear Tommy talking anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn't see the injury in the light before, really only getting a couple of glimpses in the flashes of the T.V. screen, or the dim glow of Tommy's bedroom. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking at it. He'd never hurt himself so badly before. Sure, he'd gotten a couple of bumps and bruises, an </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncountable</span>
  </em>
  <span> amount of scrapes and scratches, that was just how a borrower lived. But, he'd never fallen a distance as long as he did tonight. Even if the sink wasn't that substantial a fall, his weakened, delirious state was enough to make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And like this, it was going to hurt for a while.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe, it was going to hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon couldn't let that happen. He had to fight the tears from welling in his eyes, stop himself from getting angry at his misfortune. Instead, he just took a deep breath, holding it for a couple of seconds before exhaling in a low whimper. He looked up at Tommy, interrupting his medical rambling with pleading eyes and a near-whispered beg, "Look, man, I-I wouldn't ask this if I wasn't serious. I really need your help. Anything. I'll </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> here if I need to." He placed his uninjured hand on Tommy's knuckle, his first gentle, willing gesture towards either of the men, "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin'</span>
  </em>
  <span> worried. I can't afford to lose an arm, dude. I really can't."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy was taken aback by the man's heartfelt plea, taking a second to collect his thoughts. He started with a soft hum, a shocked frown painting his face, "O-Of course, Mr. Freeman!" he exclaimed, "I can- I will do my best to help you, a-and your arm is going to be fine, it'll just need a couple of days of rest!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"so... we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna have a sleepover...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon hadn't noticed that Benrey had woken up from his impromptu nap, and jumped at the sudden voice. He looked the man up and down, watching as he peeked over the edge of the couch cushions, the rest of his face hidden. Those bright eyes shone from beneath the strange shadow that hung over the top of his face. Gordon snorted, "Yeah. I guess the sleepover is real."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both men brightened at that, and Gordon, despite himself, couldn’t help the shaking smile that made it onto his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OK OK i gotta thank everyone for reading cause this fics got 200 kudos and nearly 1800 reads!!!! very nice to see considering this is my first fic ive ever posted and its nice to know people like it. KISSES ALL AROUND!! i NEVER expected this to get this big... i love getting comments from people so... Well. if you comment i will respond and Maybe Cry, BUT either way thank you for reading &lt;3<br/>song rec from me is the raving rabbids version of satisfaction by the rolling stones. it rocks. i promise</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>benrey and gordon have a late night chat, and gordon spills a couple of secrets.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i wrote this whole chapter while binge watching dexter. rocks so far im like... two seasons in. acab but that angel guy is cool. ANYWAY welcome back. ive been pumping these chapters out recently so i can avoid having to read the epic of gilgamesh for class. school is in full force and i got projects BUT i love to procrastinate so here we are. ENJOY THE CHAPTER!! once again.. hit me up if you want im bored always.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"So, are we just going to... ignore what I said before?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy had long since gone to bed, falling asleep with Sunkist at his feet in the worn-down La-Z-Boy beneath the shuttered window. His long limbs hung over the recliner's leg cushions, but he looked comfortable nonetheless. The man had left Gordon with a bottle cap of water and a small shard of ice wrapped in a scrap of paper towel. He'd skipped out on the medicine once Gordon insisted against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey, on the other hand, hadn't really said a word. He had set himself up on the other end of the couch Gordon was situated on, a blanket wrapped around him up to his shoulders. He'd spent the last half an hour or so scrolling through an app on his phone, but he was torn out of his trance at Gordon's voice. Benrey stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head in confusion, "whuh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know what I'm talking about, stop joking around. I'm tired of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span> with today." Gordon all but yelled, his voice just a shell of its former glory. It was more of a hiss, the sickness causing his voice to crack and stutter from the mucus caught in his throat, "Please. Just... let's talk about it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, as Benrey readjusted himself on the couch. He laid on his back, dangling his legs over the armrest and resting his head in his hands only a couple inches away from Gordon's nest, "it's all up in my noggin... but, uh, i thought you didn't wanna talk about it, bro." He lifted one hand and did a so-so gesture above his head, "i dunno. you looked all scared when you brought it up..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon... didn't feel uncomfortable when the man rested his head so close to him. He didn't like that. He didn't like that he was getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the presence of these two... This shouldn't be happening. Gordon shouldn't be getting comfortable with the humans of the apartment; it went against every rule, every bit of code that had persisted for years and years of borrower life. But... he couldn't help it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn't think about this right now… He readjusted the shard of ice, moving his wrist to a more comfortable position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"so you're a... borrower? what're you guys, like, little rats or something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> laughed, the question catching him off guard. He shrugged, "Uh, kinda. We're more like humans than animals. Look at me, dude. You think I look like a rat?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey turned his head a bit, meeting Gordon's eyes from over his shoulder. He stared for... a while.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Gordon didn't yell at him as those giant, yellow eyes glowing in the absence of light were trained on him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stayed</span>
  </em>
  <span> trained on him. Sure, he felt the burning on the back of his neck, the cold sweat beading on his brow. He was nervous, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was nervous. But, the burning wasn't so bad. Not as bad as it was before. It had lessened to... warmth, a persistent, painless tingling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon shifted a bit under the stare, and Benrey took that as a cue to turn away as he shrugged, "you're kinda like... a little rat boy, bro. no tail, though." Benrey laughed at the idea of Gordon having a tail - more of a short, loud cackle than a laugh, really - then smiled, sharp teeth shining from beneath his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was quick to compose himself, though. Too much emotion for one night. Gordon didn't say much, just returning the gesture with his own shy smile. They were silent after that, the room quiet, save for the content snoring from Tommy and the dog beside him. It was almost comical how quickly the two shut up, the atmosphere becoming too comfortable for both parties. Gordon covered the vulnerability with an awkward cough, and Benrey sighed before letting out another long, held high note, lighting the room up in a gentle green glow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon watched the bubbles of light larger than his entire body stick stagnant in the air as Benrey knocked one from hand to hand. He seemed focused, silently thinking about something as he tossed the bubble around. "What's up with... </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" Gordon asked, breaking the elongated silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The green bubble popped in Benrey's hands as he was startled out of his thoughts by the inquiring voice. He quickly waved away the remaining bubbles, plunging the room back into the dark, only illuminated by the T.V., "huh, what? nunya business, bro." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come on, you've done it twice today, man. What's up with it?" Gordon pressed, "There's gotta be something about it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged, "i dunno what you're talking about, feetman."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I- you just said it's none of my business!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"yeah. it's not."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon was getting frustrated, "Why won't you just fuckin' tell me about it?!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That annoying, teasing smirk was plastered back on Benrey's face, "uh, top-secret, bro. classified."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, running a hand through the sloppy mess of hair pulled back into a loose ponytail atop his head. His head hurt, and he didn't have the energy to keep the conversation going. His head felt heavy, his throat burning. So, he just sighed, and laid back down with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>, "Alright, fuck it. Whatever."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey kept his eyes on Gordon's rising and falling chest. Gordon knew, the sensation at the back of his neck giving it away. He snorted, "What do you want?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"what about you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey rolled onto his stomach, holding his head in his hands, "what's your deal? you got, like, a little rat family and all that? a couple of baby feetmen?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon scoffed at that, not making eye contact as he waited for the joke's punchline. But it never came, the stretch of silence only continuing. He made another offended noise once he looked up at Benrey, the pupils of those bright yellow eyes now dilated, big as dinner plates and attentive, and realized he was being serious, "You can't be— come on! You've gotta be kidding, right? You don't tell me anything about yourself, but you expect me to just spill my life story?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't say anything. Just blinked. Very slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span>... Gordon pinched his brow, running one hand over his face. He hesitated, then sighed, "Alright, fine. What do you wanna know?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"rat family? you have cool rat friends?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're not—! Whatever..." Gordon exclaimed, propping his back up against the wall of cloth behind him, "Yeah, I have a family. But here, I live alone. Moved here about a year ago to get out of the cold during the winter." He took a second, re-evaluating his current state and the temperature of the room, which had substantially increased once Tommy pumped up the heat, "Didn't really work, though..." he mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Benrey didn't have anything to say, just digging his chin comfortably into his crossed arms, Gordon continued, "I moved out when I was twenty. Some bullshit about 'borrower tradition' got me kicked out, made me fend for myself for about six years outside." He shrugged, "I hated it, but you gotta do what you gotta do, y'know?"  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...dude, how old are you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I-I'm twenty seven...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey's eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked the man up and down. Gordon looked... older than he said he was, the thin grey streak at the front of his head and through his beard, as well as the tough, muscled build. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Must just be how borrowers are..</span>
  </em>
  <span>. he shrugged, "so you're permanently a dirty boy? grew up outside with the dirt and bugs and stuff? kinda sucks, bro..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon was silent for a couple of seconds, like he was reliving a moment in his head, reminiscing about simpler, albeit harder times. He smiled, a nostalgic smile poisoned with a hint of sadness, "Can't say it was all bad..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"whaddaya mean?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I met a human kid. He lived in the neighborhood across from the park </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> lived in. He had to be eight or nine or just old enough to hold a conversation but not have his parents believe in me." Gordon laughed, "His name was Joshua. Joshie... Felt like he was my own </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span> sometimes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey stared at the little guy as Gordon was reminded of better days, thinking about a younger Gordon with a human kid as a son. It was funny, and Gordon seemed to catch onto the effort of Benrey's poorly suppressed laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon narrowed his eyes at the man about to burst at the seams, "What's so fuckin' funny man?! He was a good kid!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"joshua holding his little dad... like an action figure..." he cackled, “looks, uh, looks kinda shit for you, gordon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon turned red from head to toe, and given the ability, steam would have vented from his ears. He pointed an accusing finger right in Benrey’s face, and the man crossed his eyes to look at it, “Can you quit that shit?! I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’re just so fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Gordon huffed, dropping his hand to his side, “Besides. He never even picked me up. We just hung out together whenever his parents would let him out of the house. He liked to tell me about school and his friends and things like that. I think he liked when I told him stories about borrowing, thought it was cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“are you gonna tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> any stories about borrowing? stories? please thank you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon snorted, “We’re not there yet, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey smiled, “maybe a kiss? little kissy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sat in amicable silence. Gordon had inched a bit closer to Benrey, leeching from the small bit of heat that the giant man gave off. He didn’t touch him, but he couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches away, close enough to feel Benrey’s slow, long exhales tousle his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright, is that enough questions for tonight? I'm super tired, man." Gordon mumbled between yawns, lifting the clumsily-built glasses off his face and rubbing one of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"one more question?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shoot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey hummed, then lifted his head out of the crooks of his elbows, just enough to show his eyes. "...are we... friends?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words were so soft, so gentle. No malice, only genuinely curiosity. Gordon smiled. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile; soft, lips closed, the grin pushing up his cheeks to crinkle the skin around his eyes. He laughed a bit, "Yeah. Yeah, we're friends."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room glowed pink.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SHOUTOUT TO TUNA (AGAIN) for waking up and immediately reading this and 1) hyping me up and 2) tearing my shit to shreds cause i have horrible grammar and barely any vocabulary. kisses them. ALSO SHOUTOUT TO MY FRIEND FRANKIE ON DISCORD who has consistently sent me fanart/original ideas for this au and has essentially single handedly fueled my need to write. kisses THEM also! very glad people are enjoyin this fic enough to comment and shit! glad i can revive some love for borrowers cause BOY do they deserve it! ALRIGHTY KISSES... im finally gonna read the fuckin 4 scripts i have needed to read for the past week and be a good student &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon and benrey bond a bit, and gordon gets better</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AWOOGA sorry this chapter took so long! i was. admittedly. sort of burned out. ALSO distracted by school. to make up for it, this is a long chapter!! around 2400 words. AND BY THE WAY! if anyone has any requests/ideas/prompts that i could possibly write for this fic feel free to hit me up! i might write a bit for it or try to incorporate it into this! ANYWAY im watching arrietty with a couple of friends so KISSES have fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rest of the night was uneventful. Gordon had fallen asleep to the soft pink glow of the room, and the minuscule bit of heat radiating from Benrey's hands. The sharply-pointed nails of Benrey's fingers ran through Gordon's hair, black nail polish peeking through the long, brown locks, prodding at the messy stitches on the shoulder seams of his sweater. It's like he couldn't take his hands off of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At some point during Gordon's rest, Benrey's hands had formed a towering cocoon around the little man, who had migrated from the man-made nest in his sleep - along with a couple of scraps of fabric - closer to Benrey's cupped hands, who had yet to fall asleep even as the sun began to rise and peek through the drawn curtains. He sang a couple more notes of the Sweetvoice, sighing as the glowing bubbles lingered in the air, fluctuating in color and brightness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey had never seen anything like Gordon, and now that he had - and had made friends with him, to boot - he didn't want to let him go. Of course, he would if Gordon wanted to leave, but... he would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>upset</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thought of all the possibilities, all the things he could do with Gordon; play a couple of rounds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heavenly Sword</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Josh, get some food, watch a plethora of B-list movies...Sure, he could do all this with Tommy anyday, but something about Gordon was different. Now that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was going to relish that as long as possible. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon yawned, blinking away the offending sunbeams as he rubbed at his eyes. The room was silent, and he was warm. Warmer than he was when he had gone to bed, but only slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he noticed was the plethora of strange, unexplained, glowing bubbles floating around the room, the aura calming and kind. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>second</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing he noticed was the set of </span>
  <em>
    <span>clawed hands</span>
  </em>
  <span> arched over him like the mouth of a cave, the gentle touch of a massive fingertip running back and forth over the crown of his head and through the loose strands of hair that had fallen from his ponytail, leaving his head a bird's nest, knotted and released from his hair clip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All of a sudden, that calming aura didn't matter anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon nearly yelled, the sentiment coming out in a choked whimper instead as he scrambled away from those hands as quickly as possible, the quick movement making him feel sick once again. He winced, his arm sore and stiff from the sting of the now melted ice, a cursory glance showed the bruises beginning to turn a muddied green near the center, paired with the ache of his stuffy chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no. No, no, no...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He'd fallen asleep within the grasp of his greatest enemy, putting his life in a giant's hands, </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally and figuratively.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rushed away, panic overtaking him and he pressed his back against the armrest, panting. His arm was slack at his side, his uninjured hand holding the fractured wrist, doing his best to quell the throbbing and burning as he shivered from the pain and adrenaline coursing through his veins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Gordon couldn't breathe, choking on the ick caught in his throat. Then, he spoke, his voice a low, raspy beg, "H-Hey, man... You gotta let me go. I'm hurt enough as it is, alright? Can't do much more, heh..." ..</span>
  <em>
    <span>.besides kill me</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mind supplied, unhelpfully. He could feel the agonizing burn from those eyes once more, an unpleasant, scalding heat he had hoped to never feel again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon's panicked, sickened mind was foggy: he didn't recognize the man in front of him, nor did he remember the conversation they had last night, where he spilled his life story against every bit of reason in his body. The night he had declared their friendship, no matter how broken or staggered. Without his glasses, and his foggy state of mind, the man in front of him was nothing more than an enemy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon stood with his back against the upholstery of the armrest, petrified and confused out of his mind, flinching back at the low rumble of the man's voice, "you alright, bro? i thought we were like, uh... best friends or whatever, now."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All Gordon could hear was the over-encompassing, monotonous voice, paired with the hum of blood in his ears. He recognized those eyes, that voice… Then, the night came back to him in a wave, washing all the adrenaline from his body, leaving him a quivering mess as he fell to his knees. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What am I doing?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Benrey...</span>
  </em>
  <span>" he mumbled, following up with a hacking laugh, "You're fuckin' crazy... </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuckin' crazy!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"bro, calm down..." His voice was monotone, seemingly uncaring, though his eyes told a different story.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paced around the couch, stepping close enough to Benrey to lean against the man's massive knuckle. The burn started to fade, slowly, though it eventually tapered out to a little more than a tingle. He rubbed his brow, "I'm really starting to lose it, I-I'm just about to go under, man..." Gordon has half a mind to apologize, but the rapid decrease in stress and tension left him a shaking, shivering mess, needing support from anyone around him. He couldn't see straight, and every sense was suffocating; the texture of skin beneath his hands, the sound of the inconsistent breaths from the man in front of him, the feeling of his loose hair brushing past his neck, the cold, the sickness, the glow of the lingering bubbles, the—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't take it. His senses were in overdrive, and all he wanted to do was lay down and fall asleep, but conditions wouldn't allow. It was too loud, too bright. Too many... </span>
  <em>
    <span>things </span>
  </em>
  <span>touching him all at once. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I hate when this shit is on my back!" Gordon muttered through clenched teeth, running his uninjured hand through the ratted knots. He tried to pull it up, clip it. But he couldn't; one hand wasn't doing him any favors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey stared for a moment, then slowly reached one hand forward to rest next to Gordon's feet. He rapped his fingers on the upholstery, "i could, uh. help or something?" he shrugged, "'s not hard."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon snorted in disbelief, "You have experience with hair?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged, the pupils of his eyes thin, though not dangerously so. More focused, if anything, "eh, kinda. i used to," he smacked his lips, "uh, have long hair. sometimes i still do."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Sometimes...? How do you— You know what, it's none of my business." Gordon mumbled, fidgeting with the clip that he had frustratedly pulled out from his hair. He stared up at the man, who's eyes only grew wider the longer he held eye contact. The glowing yellow irises were blotted out by the ever-widening black of his pupils, larger than Gordon's whole hand. Gordon sighed, "You, uh. You really wanna do this, huh?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn't hesitate to nod, so much so that it startled Gordon a bit. He weighed the pros and cons; and the pros won. He couldn’t deal with the tickle of the hair on his neck, it was going to drive him </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Plus, it was too late to turn back. He paused for a moment, running a thumb over the plastic ridges of his hair clip. Then, he looked at his surroundings; the pale hands and painted nails - claws, rather - of the man resting on the couch cushions, hiding his mouth from view, aside from the sliver of a hopeful grin Gordon could catch from behind the hoodie sleeves. There was an abrupt laugh from the borrower, choked and nervous, though fond, "...A-Alright. Fine. Go for it. Just be gentle, okay?" He nodded when those eyes lit up, then gestured to Benrey with his hair clip, "You're gonna need this." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a beat of confusion, then Benrey slowly accepted the fingernail-sized clip between two fingers. Gordon gave a broken, jerky nod as he turned around with a deep, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span> breath, holding it for a couple of seconds before releasing it in a long, slow sigh. He nearly yelped when he felt one of those black claws scrape the back of his neck as it swept up his hair in one pass. Gordon had to fight the instinct to pull away, tear out of there as fast and he could. Instead, he sat as still as he could, fist clenched at his side. But, Benrey was gentle once again, holding the hair in a loose pinch between two fingernails. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon just closed his eyes, feeling his hair being pulled up into a high ponytail, the light pressure of a clawed thumb running over the crown of his head to smooth out the bumps. Before he knew it, the offending finger was gone, and his hair was off his back, the orange clip up in its rightful place. Gordon released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in a relieved sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey smiled to himself, admiring his work, "lookin', uh... lookin' rad, bro." He leaned back, "just call me a pro!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cocky display was enough to make Gordon laugh, the sound hearty and from his stomach, tapering off into a pained wheeze near the end. Benrey responded in his own strange cackle, but paused to gesture at the man's fractured wrist, "so... you want help with that, too, man?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"H-Help with my arm? How would you..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was silent for a moment, thinking about how to explain his... skill, "you know the, uh. the balls. in my mouth?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"The </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"y'know, like..." He sang a short, blue note, "like that?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You—" Gordon fumbled with his words for a second before laughing again, "Never mind. Yeah, yeah I know it."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey laid down on his stomach once again, resting his chin on his forearms. He put out a hand, right at Gordon's feet, "m'kay. give me your arm?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon hesitated, clutching his arm a little closer to his chest, "What for...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"i can't fix your arm without seeing it, idiot."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The borrower went a little red in the face, before sighing, quitting the half-hearted self-preservation tactic on his arm and sticking it out to Benrey. He felt a cool finger hook beneath his bicep, wrapping around it and gripping it slightly, though not enough to hurt or cause him any further panic. The grip was strangely comfortable, the pads of the man's fingertips nearly enough to cover his bicep completely. It wasn't stifling, though, the pressure on his arm light and... caring? Maybe he was wrong about Benrey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, maybe he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Benrey moved closer, very close. Gordon could feel the inconsistent breaths on his arm, tousling his hair and causing a shiver to run up his spine. For a second, they just stared at each other; Gordon's heart racing, Benrey's eyes lidded, lazy. Then, Benrey opened his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Gordon could yell, he would, but the sore throat and the paralyzing fear was enough to keep him quiet, much to his dismay. Gordon caught a glimpse of pointed teeth, glinting in the slivers of sunlight peeking through the window, and all he could do was pull. Pull his arm until it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, until it felt like it was going to be torn off. Try to get away from those teeth, that mouth, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The monster he had called his friend, only to seemingly be betrayed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"stop moving, bro." Benrey didn't let go, calm and collected, focused on the task at hand. He didn't notice Gordon's panic, just placing another hand behind him to keep him from pulling away. Then, he sang a long, low note. Teal. A couple of bubbles floated around Gordon, and Benrey nudged a couple towards the borrower's wrist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon couldn't fight the instinct anymore, pressing his nails deep into the wall of skin behind him, trying to claw his way out. But it wouldn't budge, and neither would the grip on his wrist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no... </span>
  </em>
  <span>His wrist hurt. It hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, having frantically attempted to escape Benrey, and all he wanted to do was yell, but he kept himself... as calm as he could. The panicked plea came out in a choked mumble, "H-Hey, dude... q-quit that shit, what are you doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"fixing your arm. teal-green, uh... heal beam." The bubbles popped, leaving an inky, glowing residue, coating Gordon's arm and spattering onto his clothing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon went to wipe it, get it off his skin before it could do... god knows what, but Benrey batted his hand away, "hey, chill, man. it's uh, working...right?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Working</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You didn't even tell me what it's meant to be doing!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"it's supposed to heal it. fix your bones or something." He ran his thumb over one edge of the dissipating ink, revealing a bit of Gordon's injured arm; the bruises were gone, the skin wasn't tender. It looked... healed. He smiled, a hint of pointed teeth poking out of a hesitant smirk, "check it out. your boo-boo is gone, bro." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looked down in shock, "There's no way..." He lifted a hand, hovering it over the spot. He hesitated, but when Benrey didn't stop him, he wiped away the rest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scratches, bruises, marks... all gone. The deformed wrist was straightened out, albeit a little off, but otherwise, the arm looked... okay? </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did it look okay?</span>
  </em>
  <span> "How did you do that?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"that's my, uh... black mesa sweetvoice. it does that stuff sometimes." Benrey looked, admittedly, a little bashful, "can you move it? howzit feel?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon closed and opened his fist a couple of times, tearing off the wet cloth that he had wrapped around his wrist to hold the now-melted ice shard. "It's, uh, a little numb and not very strong, but, I can move it. And it doesn't hurt." He smiled, "Y-Yeah. I'd say it feels pretty alright. Thanks for that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged, "'s cool, man. just an opportunity to show off my, uh, cool-ass powers."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon tucked away the scrap of fabric, tossing his shawl back onto the pile behind him. He absentmindedly tugged at the loose strands of hair dangling onto his forehead, flattening out—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a minute. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Hey. Why didn't you do your whole 'Sweetvoice' thing twenty minutes ago? Y'know, when my hair was down?" He couldn't help the knowing smirk that made it onto his face, "You really wanted to do my hair? That bad?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"whuh." Benrey picked at his claws, pulling up his hoodie to cover his face, "i don't know what you're talking about."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t bother to push it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thieved the clip idea from arrietty and was also inspired by a friends art of gordon cause he was cute and i loved his design and i wanted to kiss him (shoutout to frankie your gordon is handsome as hell and i wanna hold him). THANKS AGAIN to tuna for yelling ideas at me!! i now have a long list like a homosexual. FOR THE RECORD this chapter is ending an. arc? section? and im probably going to be going into more like. snippets of life with the characters doing different things instead of following a restricted storyline. OK THIS IS GETTING LONG its 1am in new york &lt;3 KISSES YOU ALL GN!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>eggs are eaten, and everything goes a little awry</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IM PLAYING DND RN BUT! NEW CHAPTER!! sorry for how long it took! anyway... funny egg recipes despite me not liking eggs. at all. plus... tommy gordon benrey bonding! at this point gordon's gotten pretty trusting of them, SO were getting places! ANYWAY HAVE FUN!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day went smoothly after that. Tommy woke up to the peculiar sight of Gordon leaning on the side of Benrey's head, rambling on about... whatever he had to talk about; family, kids, days past, life as a... </span>
  <em>
    <span>borrower</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He thought that's what Gordon had said... The borrower, as Tommy had learned, got angry a couple of times - talking with his hands so much it seemed like he was going to hit Benrey in the face - hopping up to pace around the couch in frustration. He was quick to calm down, though, eventually sitting back down after Benrey's offhand comments and uncaring nature, or simply just another of his teasing comments.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looked better, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better. He had shed the wrappings around his injured wrist, though he still wore the patchwork shawl he had kept close to himself du the duration of the sickness. And he laughed. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For real this time, not a forced, pained laugh to steer away from an awkward stretch of silence, or a grim, manic cackle as his nerves got the best of him. No, it was a hearty belly-laugh, filling the room every once in a while as he reminisced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy couldn't help but smile. Just a couple of hours ago he had watched the man cower in fear, cry out in pain and stress... and now he was so content. Maybe not exactly calm, but he seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span> leaned up against Tommy's massive roommate, chatting, bantering with the man, occasionally starting a couple of arguments. He wasn't so shy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sunkist groaned a bit as Tommy accidentally nudged her with his feet, rolling onto her back. Tommy did the same, deciding to give the borrower and his new friend a couple of more minutes in their amicable peace. He hid his smile behind the comforter, sighing as he rested his eyes, pretending to sleep with the background noise of Gordon's aimless storytelling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy silently laughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They were all going to be A-Okay!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't until he could feel the dull heat of sunlight on his forehead did Tommy stop pretending to be asleep. He 'woke up', yawning and stretching long limbs. He gave Sunkist a playful pat on the head, giving her the perfect opportunity to paw at his hand and leave him with a slobbery lick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Tommy had finished stretching and looked over at the two men who had been chatting on the couch, Gordon had scrambled away from Benrey's head, back to the man-made nest just a couple of inches away, and the latter had sat up, acting falsely nonchalant about the situation. Tommy didn't acknowledge it, "G-Good morning, Mr. Freeman! Are you-- Do you feel any better?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon nodded, faking a yawn and pulling the fabric around him up to his shoulders, "Yeah, I'm, ah, feeling much healthier than yesterday. If that means anything?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy beamed, "That's great! H-How about your arm?" He took a couple of steps forward, kneeling down next to the couch. With a cursory glance and a gentle grip of the man's arm - to which Gordon hesitantly obliged - Tommy hummed, "It's not all swollen anymore, b-but it's still a little wonky... Does it feel okay?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I, uh... I can't really feel it. That can't be normal, right? We can fix that... right?" Gordon flicked his palm, doing his best to make a strong fist. He did so unsuccessfully, every movement so... dull. He could feel them, but it was almost like they were delayed, like he was wearing heavy gloves and couldn't feel the skin of his palm underneath his fingertips, like he wasn't in </span>
  <em>
    <span>control</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon started to get a bit anxious, "Tommy why is it like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why can't I </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything like normal?!" He paused for a second, trying to make a fist again while looking Benrey up and down, his voice betrayed and shaking, though hesitant to believe his nerves, "Was it something you did? Something up with whatever fuckin' </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span> you did before?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey looked... shy? Embarrassed almost, as Gordon's eyes traced his every feature. Tommy quirked his head, brow furrowed gently as he rested his head in his hands to be more at eye level with the borrower, "W-What happen— what did Benrey do?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He, uh, sang some weird song. And blew bubbles." Gordon gestured with his once-injured hand, "Healed my hand, or at least I thought he did."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetvoice</span>
  </em>
  <span>... Tommy's mouth made a silent 'o', thinking over the various rhymes he had made up over the years for all of Benrey's tunes. It clicked, "Teal green... heal beam?" He looked up at Benrey, who ran a hand through the sloppy mess of hair on the top of his head, that shadow over his eyes never fading. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged, "yeah, 's that one..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nodded, humming a bit, "Well, Mr. Freeman, y-your arm is probably—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Wait, hold on." Gordon interrupted, "Why did you just... gloss over that?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"that's uh. that's normal for me, bro. i can just do that." Benrey grinned, "i already told you, feetman. 'm not human."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon just gaped for a moment, waiting for the punchline, then he awkwardly laughed when it never came, hoping to just brush it off again. Those hopes were crushed when he turned to Tommy, only to see the serious look on his face. Gordon's jaw snapped shut, "He's, uh, he's joking, right? You guys are joking?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. Benrey's eyes flickered around the room a bit, then landed on Gordon. They both didn't speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon stepped back a couple of inches, once again pressing his back hard against the couch cushions, "S-So... So you both aren't human?" He chuckled a bit, nervously, "C'mon, you're good guys... </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey prodded one clawed finger into Gordon's side, "you're not human either, man. unless you're some, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shrinky dink</span>
  </em>
  <span> dude." He turned away, crossing his arms, "you don't get to act all good and cool because you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>'human'</span>
  </em>
  <span> or something..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon blabbered, trying to get a hold of his words, "Yeah, but fuckin' look at the difference between the two of us!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"you're jus' a little dude. we get it, bro." Benrey rolled his eyes, standing up from the couch and crossing over the threshold into kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the countertop, his posture strangely poised, "are you gonna stop being mean so we can, like, eat somthin'?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the man now far away on the other side of the room, Gordon peeled himself away from the couch, and began to sift through the pile of cloth he had spent the night in, looking for his hook, and if he was lucky, the rest of his bag, "Yeah, ok, fine. What's, uh, what's for breakfast?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shot up, standing up straight next to the couch with his hands clasped politely at his chest. Sunkist was quick to jump up as well, panting happily at the giant man's side, "I-I could make eggs! Or pancakes— o-or! I could warm up some Dr. Pepper—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Woah, woah. Number one, it's eight in the morning. Number </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span>... </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dr. Pepper? Aren't you supposed to drink that cold?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"only if you're a coward." Benrey called, that cocky smile back on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon just sighed. He couldn't say he knew enough about the soda to dispute Benrey's claims, so he resorted instead to ask about the food options once more. Tommy listed off a couple more meals he could easily make with whatever sparse ingredients they had shoved at the back of the refrigerator. Eggs, pancakes, toast, so much food that Gordon had never had before, at least not warm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped it would be warm, he rarely ever got the chance to have warm food, and if there was any upside to being stuck with humans, good food had to be at the top of the list. Tommy decided on eggs and toast, kneeling down to get a small pan from the cabinet blocked by Benrey's feet. Tommy just pushed him aside, the man nonplussed with his new position on the countertop. Gordon daydreamed as the smell of simmering butter filled the room, listening to the sound of Tommy beating eggs and cream before pouring the mixture into the pan, never letting up on whisking even as the eggs began to cook. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It smelled </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Gordon didn't even notice when the sizzling stopped, the pan was pulled from the heat, and Tommy was once again standing in front of him, twiddling his thumbs anxiously at his chest, "M-Mr. Freeman, do you— would you like a lift?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon's eyes snapped open to trail up the man's body. He stood there, avoiding eye-contact, almost like he was nervous despite the </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious</span>
  </em>
  <span> upper hand he had. Benrey was already sitting at the kitchen table, scarfing down the perfectly prepared eggs and toast as quickly as he could. It was... almost impressive. Gordon tore his eyes away, instead focusing on Tommy's massive, ever fidgeting hands, one hand clearly enough to hold him in a loose fist </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He gulped, adverse to the situation, though his stomach loved the scent of the room too much to keep him away, "Uh... yeah, Tommy. Sure."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he leaned down a bit to rest a hand on the upholstery, Gordon stepped forward, testing his balance on the man's palm with one foot. When he felt confident enough, he sat square in the center of the man's warm, soft hand, gently grasping Tommy's thumb for stability. Gordon hesitated to give Tommy the go-ahead, "I know I keep saying this, but be careful, alright man? You're ah... you're a lot taller than Benrey. Big hands and all..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy didn't say a word, just nodding as he caught his tongue between his teeth in focus, lifting his hand as slowly and gently as he could. He took a deep breath before stepping forward; once, twice, again over the threshold and onto the laminate kitchen floors. Gordon was let down onto the table, and he couldn't get out of that hand any faster. It wasn't a bad ride by any means. Tommy was just... </span>
  <em>
    <span>tall</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and what was only seconds felt like it lasted </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Gordon, as he sat in that warm, claustrophobic grasp. He smiled up at the man, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for a reply from Gordon. That warm smile seemed to be enough for him, as he visibly relaxed and slid a napkin of food closer to Gordon, who gladly accepted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was passed a corner of toast </span>
  <em>
    <span>bigger</span>
  </em>
  <span> than his own head, slathered with a thick layer of the small-curd eggs. Objectively, it was way too much food for the borrower, but at that moment, he didn't even care. He took a big bite, savoring in the taste and the warmth for a moment before taking an even bigger bite.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was in </span>
  <em>
    <span>heaven</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He'd never eaten like this before, having this much food in surplus and served at the intended temperature. Gordon could get used to this...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What am I thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> get used to this! Everything was way too loud, way too close at ever moment; the chewing, the breathing, the clatter of utensils against ceramic... Even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> consider these two humans to be his friends, a large part of him still wanted everything to go back to normal. Sure, he'd played fast and loose with the rules his whole life, but all this was a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> fast and loose. Lost in his thoughts, Gordon took off his shawl and sliced a corner of bread and egg, wrapping the food in the fabric to save a bit before he ate the rest. He couldn't give up the opportunity to bring a bit—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"what's up, man? why are you, uh, doing that?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon jumped, holding the wrapped bundle tighter in his arms. Then, he sighed, relaxing when he finally caught up to the situation, "This is just what I do, man. Borrowers... borrow things. Bring things home. Gotta eat something, y'know?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"that's not borrowing if you're just gonna eat it—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It's just the name, alright?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey paused for a moment, taking another bite of his toast, "yeah, but... you don't, like, need to do that, dude. we have plenty of food." He reached out to pull the bundle from Gordon's hands, who hesitantly relented his grasp, "so. don't do that? please thank you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was a little offended by the offer, putting out his hands in wait for the bundle to be returned, "Benrey, I'm a grown man that's been living on his own for fuckin'... seven years of my life. I can handle collecting some of my own food without your help."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"W-What I think Benrey is trying to say, Mr. Freeman, is that you don't need to do all that collecting anymore! W-We know you're capable, b-but why do you— why would you want to keep struggling to collect food like that when we can help you out!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paused, thinking over Tommy’s argument. He looked back and forth between the two men at the table. He sighed, “Look... you know what, I—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a hard knock at the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The whole table paused, heads snapping to the intrusion as Gordon flinched back. Benrey just stared, though Tommy looked flustered, starting to stand before turning to Gordon with an apologetic smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon went red in the face.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<span>“Oh, you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be kidding me.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LITTLE CLIFFHANGER KINDA! intro to.. a couple of characters... coming next chapter. everyone knows who but YKNOW just gotta pretend like it'll be a surprise. THANKS FOR THE READ! CRAZY to see this fic has over 3000 reads and nearly 300 kudos! insane!! and well. i love reading and responding to comments so uh *shy hands* maybe leave one? lemme do a little chat? OK KISSES &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You Know Who shows up, and gordon catches a little ride</p><p>(this chapter goes out to the random anon that told me sunkist isn’t a girl. it’s a jpg of a dog in a funny half life series. it doesn’t matter)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAHA HEY GUYS!!! been a little bit....... SORRY ABOUT THAT! its been a rough couple weeks 4 me and I couldn't really bring myself to write that often. do I like this chapter? not really.... BUT I needed to put something out before I drove myself insane! ANYWAY! this one clocks in around 2200 words again so &lt;3 have fun! (BTW everyone who was in the comments last chapter like "whos at the door :o" WERE YOU GUYS BEING SERIOUS? WAS THAT A JOKE OR NOT?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a split second between that soft, apologetic smile, and the consuming darkness that fell upon Gordon as Benrey clapped his hands in a tent around him, forcing him to curl up and sit as Tommy pulled open the front door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was silent for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, it was quickly broken by the booming voice of a man who had way too much energy despite the early hours, too much pep in his step, too much optimism at this time of day, "Good morning, Tommy!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy beamed like nothing was wrong, and this </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> the first thing he had to deal with today, as Benrey begin to slide his cupped hands closer to his chest, earning himself a couple of muffled, hissed complaints from Gordon. Tommy ignored the debacle behind himself, "H-Hi, Dr. Coomer, Dr. Bubby..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine day, isn't it? Not too cold, but with a chill that can freeze you to your bones if you don't bundle up!" Coomer laughed, though all he wore was a pair of brown khakis and a button-up T-shirt. "The temperature is meant to drop as the day goes on, though—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Bubby, a more willowy man - taller than the man in the doorframe, but still dwarfed by Tommy - peeked over the first man's shoulder, "Tommy, could you let us in? The power is out in our goddamn apartment, and your father is telling us it won't be back for a couple of hours. If I don't get out of the dark, I'll fucking explode!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy hesitated, turning back to look at Benrey, who was no longer sitting at the kitchen table, but standing in the middle of the kitchen with a near-guilty look on his face, hands clasped behind his back, and Sunkist was doing some investigation of her own as she sniffed at Benrey's hands. Gordon wasn't on the table, either. Tommy panicked for a moment, then composed himself. Leaving the two older men waiting in the door would only make the situation more suspicious, "Y-yes, of course! Why is— why are the lights out in your apartment?" Tommy scratched the back of his neck, "I-It seems to be okay up here...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two men strode into the Coolatta apartment like they owned the place, Bubby not hesitating to take a seat on the couch, as Coomer stood politely in the center of the living room, hands on his hips as he began to explain their predicament, "Well, Tommy, Bubby had been hearing some little beasties in our walls for the past couple of days, was getting 'pissed off', as he would say. So, I punched a hole through the wall each time I heard a sound and tried to catch whatever was the creator, those little rascals..." he laughed, "In the process, I ruptured our water line! Your father informed us our electricity must be turned off in order to fix the leak."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“whu…” Benrey gaped, hands no longer hidden behind his back, now at his side, and Sunkist was gone. Benrey was empty-handed. Tommy looked the man up and down... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where was Gordon?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~•~ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon didn't like this, he didn't like this one </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment Benrey clapped his hands around him to hide him from the men's line of sight, it was dark. Very dark. And despite being a borrower, and living in the darkness of the walls, Gordon didn't like the dark. He liked the dark even less when it was in the stifling hands of a human— no, just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span> — that slowly began to drag his hands along the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon stumbled and roughly fell onto his back, cursing under his breath and pounding his fists into the soft flesh of Benrey's palm. He didn't like the dark, and that's all he was faced with right now; no slivers of light, no dim flickering of the television, no soft glow from the bubbles that floated around the room. Too much had happened to him in the dark. He was always helpless, no matter what. It also didn’t help how tight it was, how claustrophobic everything was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt helpless now, with no reassurance from the man who kept him trapped beneath the palm of his hands, almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hopeless</span>
  </em>
  <span>... but he knew Benrey. He considered this man his friend, someone he trusted enough to spill his life story to without hesitation— </span>
  <em>
    <span>anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, he just relaxed. Well, relaxed as much as Gordon Freeman was capable of relaxing, waiting for whatever Benrey had as a plan. He sat on the table — feet straight in front of him as his back pressed against those cold, clawed hands — and was slid across the surface, slowly but surely as Tommy and the new strangers continued their conversation. There was no reason why Gordon should feel comfortable around Benrey, but something about the man's presence was reassuring— albeit, frustrating and unbearable at points. Benrey was familiar, and no matter how much the man annoyed Gordon sometimes, in a situation like this — where Gordon was faced with the threat of strangers or the comfort of a familiar face — Gordon was inclined to pick the lesser of the two evils. He took solace in his thoughts for a couple of seconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he dropped. It was so quick that Gordon didn't even have time to scream, just feel his heart plummet as he was swiped off the table and landed in the soft cushion of his friend's hand. Dizzy from vertigo, Gordon barely even processed what was happening before he scrambled back to lean against the heel of Benrey's palm, and Benrey's fingers curled up to keep the borrower falling, or worse, jumping off. One clawed thumb pressed gently against him, covering his entire chest and keeping him secure in Benrey's hand. Gordon's heart raced, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of the palm below him as he listened to the quiet conversation that continued in the living room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the warmth of Sunkist's breath on his cheek, her nose nearly right up against his face, the rattling of her tags as she wriggled a bit in worry. She nudged the underside of Benrey's hand, doing nothing to calm Gordon's nerves despite her intentions. Benrey, though, patted her neck and waved his free hand, and Sunkist obliged; she took a couple of steps forward, lining her collar up with the man in Benrey's palm, the giant expanse of her back lowering a bit as she sat back on her haunches. Before Gordon knew it - too caught up in how quick everything was happening, how quickly everyone moved - there he was, on the back of an unnaturally massive dog, eyes wide, hands shaking as he clung into the nylon of her orange collar, one hand weaker than the other, tangled in her long, golden fur. Benrey brought his hands down to his side, ignoring the low hiss from a distressed Gordon as he gestured down the hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they were off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunkist, distracted by her mission, didn't hesitate to start trotting away from the living room, and out of the center of the action. Gordon - if he wasn't so worried about the massive dog he had</span>
  <em>
    <span> no control</span>
  </em>
  <span> over taking him away from the only people he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> - would have been glad to be away from the strangers, but the only thing at the forefront of his mind was the worry of being tossed around like a chew-toy, or at worst, eaten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey wouldn't do that, right? He wouldn't leave Gordon alone with some bloodthirsty dog... </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, he'd just have to wait it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunkist was quick to bring him into the dimly lit room at the end of the hall - Benrey's room - where she stood amidst the unorganized piles of laundry, scratching at one of the piles until she was comfortable with its placement and doing a couple of circles in place before laying down with a content whine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon hesitated, holding his breath as he waited for the movement to begin again, though Sunkist never did. He untangled his hands from the dog's fur, standing square on the ridge of her back, and did his best to slide down her neck unnoticed. Sunkist, though, turned her head to stare at the man who was dwarfed by her paws. Gordon froze like a deer in headlights, shivering to fight the urge to run away. No motion from the dog at first, then she sighed, nuzzling her wet, leathery nose into Gordon's side with a couple of reassuring licks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon stiffened, taking a sharp inhale as the dog stuck out her tongue, yelping when she left a slobbery kiss up the side of his face. But, when that's all she did, Gordon laughed, relaxing as he went to wipe the drool from his face and pat the dog's muzzle, "Thanks, Sunkist." He smiled a wide grin, glad to feel comfortable once more, and safely away from the action. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wagged her tail, rolling onto her side with an excited </span>
  <em>
    <span>boof</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Gordon didn't hesitate to take advantage of the soft, warm fur of her now-exposed underbelly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where did Sunkist just go off to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy turned around to stare at his roommate, who stared back at him wide-eyed, flicking his eyes down the hall. Tommy understood, "S-She hasn't been feeling well. She might have— she went to go lay down!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bubby didn't look convinced, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms, "Not so much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>'Perfect Dog'</span>
  </em>
  <span> if she gets sick."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy scratched the back of his neck, "W-Well, she—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now, Bubby..." Coomer started, his smile wide, "even Sunkist must feel sick at times! You may be the perfect clone, but don't you feel a little 'blue' every once in a while?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I—" Bubby huffed, "Fine..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coomer gave Tommy an almost knowing look. Knowing of what, Tommy wasn't exactly sure, but he cleared his throat, "Dr. Coomer... y-you mentioned hearing little things in your walls...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a short beat of hesitation before Coomer nodded, and Tommy continued, "Oh! Benrey and I had that problem b-briefly, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I could clear them out for you, if necessary?" Coomer asked, lifting his hands into a goofy, old-timey fisticuffs stance, "Nothing gets past </span>
  <em>
    <span>these</span>
  </em>
  <span> guns, ha ha!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was quick to wave away the offer, shooting an exasperated glance back at Benrey, who had moved to sit on the kitchen counter once more, "N-No, I think it's okay! They aren't— they stopped a little while back." He shrugged, "W-We think it might have been mice or something."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bubby hummed, pushing around the nest of fabric Tommy hadn't had time to move before the two older men made themselves comfortable, "Are you sure it was just mice?" He rapped on the wall behind him, putting his ear to the drywall and listened for a moment, "That little fuckin' thing was too smart to be a mouse..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stiffened when the man stood up to search around the living room a bit, clapping his hand over the little hook and bag on the couch-side lamp table, sliding them into his pocket before Bubby could notice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Coomer, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to deceive. He watched as Tommy hid the evidence of their little guest, "Tommy, was that—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"so, uh, can you guys, like, swim in your house? new swimming pool?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for a moment. Tommy let out a relieved sigh, and Bubby turned to stare at the strange man in the kitchen, Coomer torn from his questioning as he laughed, "Not exactly, Boper! While our apartment </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> flooded, it is only enough to get your feet wet!" He clasped his hands together, “We... actually came to ask if we could stay a night or two? Only if it isn’t any bother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin, and Benrey nervously scratched at the hair under his hoodie. They stared at each other, then flicked back to the man in the living room, who was now seemingly embarrassed. They spoke in unison:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Of course!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“uh, no...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy beamed as Benrey held his head in his hands. Coomer awkwardly chuckled, “Well, thank you, Tommy! We will be out as soon as your father is able to repair the burst.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benrey backed away, “i’m gonna go check on sunkist...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~•~ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon could hear every word from the living room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have </span>
  </em>
  <span>got</span>
  <em>
    <span> to be kidding me!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled himself away from the warmth of Sunkist’s fur, pacing around the room as he ran his hands through his hair. Sunkist was quick to pick up on his change in attitude. She rested her head in the middle of his path, stopping him in his tracks, and Gordon just buried his face into her muzzle with a long, tired groan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stayed like this for a while, until he heard those slow, lazy footsteps making their way down the hall. He hid under a pile of clothes just to be safe (much to his dismay, he didn’t know how clean those were), but when Benrey shambled into the room, closing the door behind him, Gordon was quick to hop out from his hiding place and stand at the man’s feet, shouting a couple of words of vitriol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finally calmed down and leaned against one of Sunkist’s paws, Benrey lay down on his stomach, his head resting on his arms, “‘m sorry...” he mumbled, embarrassingly averting his eyes from the man in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, “I just never get a break, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks to everyone who has commented on this fic! i may or may not go back and read them whenever I'm down so they really helped me this week! AND WELL! when I feel like giving up on this fic seeing people enjoy it really brings me back and makes me brainstorm once more so I appreciate it!! AGAIN SORRY about the delay. rough week + being bogged with school work. i do my best to get chapters out asap but sometimes I am a little slow.... reading comments and getting in touch with other people who like the fic lifts my spirits and that's what happened here SO! kisses once more... AND GOODNIGHT (its 7:30)!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gordon and benrey have a heart to heart, and someone has suspicions</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>do i have a midterm due on tuesday that i haven’t started? yes. will i write this instead of that? absolutely. ANYWAY HIIIII GUYSSSS. homosexuals are really gonna like this one i think. sorry about the wait again!! always seems like i am apologizing... but again MIDTERMS! OK ENJOY!! (this chapter contains a little frenrey so if you don’t like that!! i’m sorry!! i’ll do a little recap in end notes if you want to avoid it)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Benrey didn’t leave his room for the rest of the day, not wanting to deal with the new guests in the living room. He felt a little bad leaving Tommy alone with them; the two men were known for being a little more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>boisterous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But, on the other hand, Tommy would be able to handle the situation better than he ever could.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, whatever situation he had going on here was far better than anything he'd get out there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon, who at first refused to budge from the carpeted floor, hunched comfortably over his work as he leaned against Benrey's side, rising and falling with the erratic pattern of the man's breathing, repairing a couple of tears in the leg of his pants using a pin Benrey had found in the junk drawer of his desk — far too big for the four-inch-tall man, but still useable. It had taken about an hour for Gordon to join Benrey up on his bed, the borrower insisted that the piles of clothes on the floor were comfortable enough to stay put, but after the near incessant </span>
  <em>
    <span>nagging</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the man on the bed, Gordon finally agreed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was quick to roll onto his stomach and lower a hand to the carpeted floor, waiting for permission from the borrower. Gordon looked up at those bright yellow eyes, watching as the dark void in the center grew larger, more pleading the longer he stared at Gordon. He sighed, shook his head, and just leaned back against Benrey's palm, who was quick to scoop him up in a cupped hand. He felt that boundless, floaty feeling in his stomach as he was lifted to lay on the mattress, though the ride didn't end as quickly as he expected. For a few moments, he was suspended in the air — high above the carpeted floor and Gordon's impromptu nest of an old t-shirt — in that same black-clawed hand. Benrey's eyes were lazy, but the near absence of yellow that was replaced by the black of his pupil told a different story; it felt like he could stare a hole through the borrower if he wanted to, but at the moment, it seemed all he wanted to do was... hold him, keep him safe gently in the palm of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey knew that Gordon didn't need anyone protecting him — the guy was twenty-seven, and had lived alone in a world far too big for himself for a good portion of his life — but he couldn't help but feel protective of him. Plus, Benrey was still a little curious... he may act all nonchalant, but for some reason, being around Gordon was always a rush. Someone new to talk to, to learn about; Gordon was practically unknown to him, as a person, and as an </span>
  <em>
    <span>entity</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knew humans well enough, though he didn't exactly understand everything, (emotions were complicated, and they just... die... permanently?) he thought he got the general gist. Borrowers though... Benrey knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about. He rested Gordon's hand on the curve of his thumb, staring at that perfect little hand; creases, curves, calluses, scars, everything a human would have, but near imperceptible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was strange... and that was coming from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon, caught in shock as his hand was maneuvered against his will, jerked it away to hesitantly hold it to his chest. He only relaxed when Benrey didn't do anything else, just stared at him fondly. Maybe it was the unmoving, focused yellow eyes that Gordon met when he looked up, or the fact that he was still a couple of feet above the ground in the hand of a giant, but Gordon fidgeted under that stare, the unusual burn at the back of his neck returning for the first time since Benrey looked at him recently. He wasn't scared, per se, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>confused</span>
  </em>
  <span>, "Why are looking at me like that, dude?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey, torn from his frozen stare, turned a bit pink under that unusual shade over his eyes, and if Gordon wasn't so small, so that the man's face wasn't taking over his entire view, he didn't think he'd notice it. He just shrugged, beginning to lift Gordon up once more, "how are you, uh, that small...?" he mumbled, turning to lay on his back as to hide the pink glow at the back of his throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon scoffed as he was gently placed on the bed besides the looming monster, "Seriously? You wanted to tell me I’m small? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That's</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you dangled me over the floor for?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"no."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"huh?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon narrowed his eyes in irritation, but didn't bother pressing. He knew he'd get nothing out of the man, even if he pestered him for days on end. He just rolled his eyes, and started over to sit at Benrey's side. He sat down with a low groan, patting the side of Benrey's stomach, fondly, "Whatever you say, buddy." The steady rise and fall of Benrey's breathing bobbed Gordon back and forth as he rested his head against the man's ribcage, resting his eyes for a moment before springing back into his work, "Whatever you say..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They sat like that for the next couple hours or so, in amicable silence, aside from the occasional frustrated mumbled from Gordon when he accidentally snapped his thread. Benrey didn't do much other than lay on his back, closing his eyes and singing a couple notes of Sweetvoice every once in a while; a soft, pastel purple glow filling the room. He sighed, bored out of his mind, "what're you doin'? sewing your jorts into jants? for the winter?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn't even acknowledge the joke, just stared up at Benrey from over his glasses. He held that look — confused, calculating — as he tried to get a read on the mysterious man who turned his head to meet the borrower's eyes. Benrey flashed that familiar annoying, teasing smirk. Though, it only lasted a couple of seconds before Gordon was fed up with the man's cockiness, and dug his little cloth boots into Benrey's side, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt in each hand — his formally injured hand doing its best to keep up, and pull its own weight — as he hiked himself to stand on Benrey's chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was taken aback, staring at the borrower as he trod over the soft of his stomach to stand square in Benrey's view. He rarely ever expected Gordon to get that close on his own fruition; Gordon, who now held the high ground over the giant below his feet. Benrey was scared to </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> — much less move — in fear of jostling the man too much and risk throwing him off balance. Instead, he just sat there, his head bent slightly to lock eyes with the little green eyes staring behind glasses. "what's up, man?" he rumbled, and those few words seemed to remind Gordon exactly where he was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon tested the flesh below him, recalling the feeling of the rumbling words from the gargantuan chest at his feet. He'd gotten up on Benrey's chest in a spur-of-the-moment decision, sick of the man's evasiveness, paired with that glint of sharp, white teeth behind smirking lips every time he said something he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> would run Gordon in circles. Gordon hated it. It could make his blood </span>
  <em>
    <span>boil</span>
  </em>
  <span> every time Benrey ignored whatever he would ask or pretend like nothing happened. Gordon had to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it before he lost his mind. He got his nerves up, planting those boots firmly into the man's sternum, then spoke, "Don't go pulling that shit with me again. What's up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why are you always beating around the bush whenever you talk to me?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"wh. huh?" Benrey muttered, tilting his head like he didn't know what Gordon was talking about, "what're </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking about?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon clapped his hands over his eyes, "Fuck with the little guy, why don't you—" he mumbled, then sighed, "Alright... If you're gonna be so fuckin' stubborn about it, don't tell me! I'm trying to get through to you here, man, so maybe we could trust each other a little more, y'know? But, if you don't want to, whatever." Gordon went to walk off the man's chest, ready to take a step to fall onto the mattress, only to be stopped by that cold, clawed hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey just stared for a moment, waiting for any chastising from the borrower. When it didn't come, only a slightly agitated glare aimed straight between his eyes, he spoke, "i don't know, bro. you're like, cool to hang out with, i guess?" Benrey scratched the back of his neck, recalling the time of their first meeting, "even when you, uh, interrupted josh and i. and we had to pause the game. you were still </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey seemed... shy, almost, admitting his feelings out loud. Gordon didn't laugh, that'd be rude, but he had to admit hearing Benrey spill like that was... a bit funny. He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, or the silent shake of a laugh. Benrey — when there was no immediate response from the now shuddering man standing square on his chest —flicked his eyes away, the pupils of his eyes widening to fill the bright yellow with the dark absence of light. Embarrassed, he covered his mouth to wipe away the glow of pink that spilled from his lips. Flustered, he didn’t know what to say, besides the running joke at the back of his mind that wasn’t so much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>joke</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. He collected himself, smiling as he tilted his head to rest on his arm, staring down at Gordon, “wanna kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon had half a mind to immediately say no, get off the man’s chest as quickly as he could. But the other half just laughed, taken aback by the question despite how many times he’d heard it already. He doubled over, laughing so hard tears brimmed in his eyes, a hand clutched tightly around his midsection. Between wheezes, he spoke, “Y’know, one of these days I might tell you to go for it and you’re gonna have to deal with that.” Gordon wiped the tears from his eyes, ending the laughing fit with one last sigh, “But the answer is still no, dude.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“aw, man...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paused, his smile sheepishly dropping after hearing Benrey’s tone of voice, “You were being </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey furrowed his brow, the confusion as evident on his face as it was on Gordon’s, “yeah? why would i joke about that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you—!” Gordon groaned, pinching his forehead as he spoke, “Alright, let's just get this straight. You were being serious? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> would you be serious?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“you’re kinda cute. ‘s not, like... weird, bro.” Benrey shrugged, lifting a finger to nudge at Gordon’s side, “i’m not a liar. i never lie. you’re—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey’s explanation was cut short by the clashing of little teeth on empty air as Gordon lunged forward to bite at the offending finger slowly reaching towards him. Purposely, he missed, but his threat didn’t go unnoticed. He pointed a stern finger at the man, those sharp, yellow eyes focused back in on him with a shocked look, “Listen, I’m not in the mood. You can’t just go throwing this shit on me, man! We barely even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> each other! I don’t even know if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> you for sure yet! Our ‘friend’ status can change real quick.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t even seem like Benrey comprehended what Gordon just said, though he did look a bit hurt as Gordon’s sentiment of distrust. Though, he washed it away as quickly as it came, and replaced it with that empty stare of confusion, “did you just try to bite me... did you just do that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I just tried to bite you, now can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen to me?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“wh. i </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The little quarrel was interrupted by the rushed sound of footsteps and the creak of the bedroom door. Tommy, brow furrowed with concern as he began to speak, “Benrey, Mr. Freeman... I think there may be— there’s something up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent for a moment, as the men flicked their eyes towards the welcome intruder who didn’t even acknowledge the position they were in. Gordon took a few steps back, away from Benrey’s face and closer towards the center of his chest, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tommy, is everything okay? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me everything's okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt, and Sunkist was quick to hop up from the floor to nudge at his hand with a reassuring whine. He patted her nose with a smile, walking to stand next to the bed on which the two men lay, “I-I think Dr. Coomer may knew— know something about borrowers. H-He was looking around the kitchen! And he... he kept covering for you!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon’s heart sunk, and he held his head in his hands as he listened to the thump of his heartbeat and the rush of blood in his ears, “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>... There’s no way...” he mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A-And the hole in the wall! And how he— he kept hearing things!” Tommy listed off, his voice getting more neurotic and panicked as he continued, “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy</span>
  </em>
  <span>... It’s not your fault. We just... can’t let him know more, alright?” Gordon assured him, holding out a placating hand to the man who had kneeled down next to the bed in apology, eyes wide and worried, “He just can’t know that I—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn't any time to react before the door swung open once again, this time filled by the silhouette of the stocky, older man, who’s eyes were pressed shut from the wide smile on his face accompanied by that booming voice, “Hello, Tommy and Bipple! I couldn’t help but hear the... commotion—“ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were wide now, soft greens locked onto the frozen form of the man standing on Benrey’s chest. He just stared, the thoughts rushing through his head at a mile a minute as he took in the mortified stares returned to him — especially that of the borrower, who looked just seconds away from passing out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer glanced between the men once more, then turned to leave, stiffly walking out the door and into the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was quick to react, snatching the shell- shocked borrower up in a loose fist and depositing him into Tommy’s lap. The trade-off was rough, — Gordon tumbled a bit, nearly rolling off onto the floor — but Tommy was quick enough to catch him, cradling the restless borrower in his hands as Gordon scrambled to hide himself or best make sense of the situation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey rushed out of the room, throwing himself in front of the man in the hallway before he could make it back to his companion. The two stood in a silent standoff: Benrey a pleading stare, and Coomer a confused, shocked, and overall fascinated smile that faded to a sympathetic frown as Benrey’s eyes bore into his own. Coomer was silent for a moment, then laughed in an exhale, “They’re real, aren’t they?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>frenrey free recap: gordon and benrey do a bit of talking, tommy walks in in a panic thinking coomer knows about borrowers, coomer walks in and leaves. benrey chases coomer down the hall, and coomer acknowledges the existence of borrowers.</p>
<p>ANYWAY!! i was gonna try to avoid doing frenrey in this fic but i have worms in my brain so i apologize for that. the chapters will most likely be frenrey from here on out, but maybe not too mushy gushy obvious. WELL! thank you for reading!! and to anyone who likes frenrey... well we’re holding hands aren’t we...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>coomer isn't crazy, and the gang learns some secrets</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHOOPSIE this one took a while! sorry about that.... midterm, puppet shows, productions, oh my. it's been a LONG couple of weeks for me school-wise! i am actually in class at the moment i post this... ANYWAY! this one was kinda fun to write cause it was a recap kinda thing so PLEASE ENJOY! i love writing coomer he speaks like i speak in emails. king.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Harold, I think there's something up."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bubby sat on the couch, legs crisscrossed with a fuzzy, fleece blanket draped across his lap, winter coat long discarded to hang off the armrest. Coomer sat beside him, staring into space with an empty look on his face, drifting to someplace unknown. A few minutes ago, Tommy had rushed down the hallway, excusing himself to his bedroom for a moment — his hands were quivering as he spoke, and he was stuttering more than usual. Neither of the men had believed his story. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer was pulled out of his trace by the concerned voice of his companion, and quickly hid his thoughts behind that bright smile, turning to gently clap the frail man on the shoulder, "What seems to be the issue, Professor?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Bubby frowned, pausing to stare at that unceasingly infectious grin for a moment, trying to drill his title into the man's memory — which never worked, despite his best efforts. He shook his head, "Something about the way Tommy's been acting. Looking around the house and everything, like he's trying to find something. Plus, Tommy sucks at lying." He sighed, furrowing his brow as he spoke, "And that Benrey character! Usually, he wouldn't shut the fuck up, but he didn't even say a word to us when we came in!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Now, Bubby," Coomer was quick to reassure, even with his own disbelief of Tommy's story, and the growing suspicion that something was, in fact, not quite right, "I'm sure Tommy is okay! We did show up unexpectedly, and he must be a bit stressed doing his best to accommodate us. And, it's been a little while since we've last seen him. We may have taken him by surprise!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We saw him </span>
  <em>
    <span>last weekend.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Bubby mumbled, "He came to talk to us when his father didn't have the guts to do it himself!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We only saw him very briefly!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You made him a cup of </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> coffee."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer was silent at that. He could feel the gaze of that calculated stare from behind the man's tinted glasses. Bubby leaned forward, his words accusatory, “And your excuse for Benrey? What’s his problem?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That one stumped Coomer, though he didn’t dare show it. The two were silent, and they could hear the muffled sound of Tommy's voice from a couple of rooms over. Bubby focused in on the sound, listening intently as he could to catch even a portion of the conversation. It sounded... one-sided, like Tommy was talking to himself, but the responses were too far and few between to be a simple soliloquy. Bubby opened his mouth to report his observations, only to be cut off as Coomer shot up to stand at his full height (unimpressive, but much made up for by his bulk). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stood confidently, hands on his hips, his grin tight-lipped, but warm, "I'm going to go check on Tommy. And maybe Benny, if I can get a hold of him!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bubby just crossed his arms, a bit taken aback by Coomer's sudden willingness to intervene. Though, he knew the man often liked to stay in the loop of things, so the sentiment wasn't too uncharacteristic. He shrugged, "Go for it." Bubby, uncontent to sit and wait, took it upon himself to make a cup of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>coffee, rummaging through the cabinets as Coomer walked away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer left the living room without another word, slowly making his way down the hallway, purpose in each step. He gave himself enough time to think: the scratches on the linoleum countertop, the dents in the pantry door, the rivets carved into the back of cabinets... something about it all felt too familiar to his own apartment. Bubby just assumed all the strange, new becomings were the products of rats, but Coomer had his own ideas. Especially after he punched that final hole in the wall — the one that broke their water line.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could have sworn he'd heard something. Seen something. Something that wasn't just a rat... He had simply brushed it off as senility. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting old, after all. But seeing the same peculiar markings in an apartment that wasn't his own was enough to spur the memory once more: a yelp, barely audible above the crush of drywall and the rush of water, the glimpse of a pair of minuscule eyes, a heaving chest — too human to be another animal in the wall — not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>inches</span>
  </em>
  <span> away from the metal of Coomer's prosthetic. The interaction only lasted a second, the little creature gone in a flash before Coomer's eyes, but it felt longer than that. He didn't even pull his arm out of the wall until Bubby asked him what his problem was, to which he didn't answer. He didn't know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer realized he'd been standing silently at the closed bedroom door for a suspiciously long time, lost in his own thoughts. He shook his head, doing his best to force away his senseless imaginings before placing his hand on the doorknob. Again, he plastered that winning smile back on his face, glad that — despite it all — his smile was infallible, capable of hiding whatever was too vulnerable, too </span>
  <em>
    <span>absurd</span>
  </em>
  <span> to show. With one strong shove, the door swung open, and Coomer didn't hesitate to announce his presence, "Hello, Tommy and Bipple! I couldn't help but hear the... commotion—" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he opened his eyes to, after the smile dropped from his face, was the petrified gaze of a man no bigger than his hand, square in the center of Benrey's chest. It was an intense few seconds of staring, the man's eyes just as wide as his own, Coomers mouth locked in a soft 'o', before he glanced between his two friends. When there was no response — no acknowledgement of the situation besides the panicked gapes — all Coomer could manage was a silent second as his face straightened to a confused, tight lipped grin before he almost robotically turned around and stepped out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He only made it a couple of steps down the hallway, every thought he could possibly create about the little man rushing through his head all at once, faster than he could keep up with — images of that little, mortified face, both of the... creature... in the wall and the man in the room just a few steps back, the questions of </span>
  <em>
    <span>hows</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>whats</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the immeasurable couple of seconds of silence accompanied by the almost imperceptible stuttering and loose lipped blubbering that fell from the man's mouth as he stood on Benrey’s chest— and his smile only grew. Not a smile of happiness, exactly, but one of growing bewilderment. Excitement... </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the few giddy seconds didn't last too long. The commotion behind him only got louder as the door was flung back open, and a panicked Benrey came bounding down the hallway in a full sprint. His hands were empty as he jumped in front of Coomer, the little man no longer with him, arms spread out from wall to wall, an intense but pleading look in his eyes. Benrey didn't say anything, just let the bewildered smile drop from Coomer's face with a soft laugh as he blocked his path, "They're real, aren't they?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was silent, the hesitation leaving time to hear the neurotic mumbles from the other two notoriously nervous men hiding in the bedroom. All he did was nod, holding that intense stare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer's shoulders released a bit of the tension he had been holding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least he wasn't senile just yet! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He held the sight of those two little faces in his mind, glancing over his shoulder once more with a hum before speaking, "May I... speak to him?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey's eyes widened by a near invisible amount as he scratched at the band of his beanie. Gordon wasn't going to like this, but it wasn't like he could stop Dr. Coomer either way, "uh. yeah? i guess?" Benrey shoved past the man without a second thought, "he might get all, uh, scaredy cat with you. but he likes to talk. i think."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer put on his brightest, most genuine smile and straightened out his green, 'no-wrinkle' cotton button-up before following closely behind Benrey, who stepped silently — almost shyly — into the room. Coomer was hot on his heels; he was excited to meet whatever faced him, hopeful that whatever he would see in that room would set the record straight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn't clear much up, if he was being honest, but the simple reassurance that every little sound, every strange occurrence, the sight of those impossibly small eyes wasn't just a figment of imagination by a senile old man. All Coomer could do was smile — which seemed like the only thing he was capable of at this point — but he was pulled out of his baffled, toothy grin by the biting hiss that came from the man, and the yelling that followed thereafter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Coomer expected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey, who now sat on the bed with his back straight and his hands clasped in his lap, got the brunt of it, though he was barely even phased by the outburst of newfound frustration. “What the fuck is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>problem</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Benrey?!” the man exclaimed, scrambling far into the palm of Tommy’s hands to hide himself as much as he could. Tommy, who —in all fairness — did his best to calm him down, gently cupping his massive hands just enough to eclipse the man from view. The man, though, continued to peek his head out from the little opening Tommy had left in his hands. And of course, he continued to yell, “You don’t even bother to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?! Just bring him back in here to, what, say ‘hi’?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey just shrugged, “he asked nicely. very, uh, polite.” He glanced over to the man encased in Tommy’s hands, “unlike </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> here...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man stumbled over his words, babbling incoherently as he tried to collect the sounds into a complete sentence. It was panicked, his voice wracked with nervousness as he stammered, the—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Beastie!” Coomer boomed, causing the little man to nearly jump out of his skin, the flinch the sound elicited enough to make him clap his hands over his ears and bury himself back into Tommy’s hands. For a moment, Coomer worried the sound would alert Bubby to the situation, though the worry quickly faded when he heard no footsteps in the hall, only the clatter of ceramic and the near silent mutter of expletives. Coomer grimaced slightly, but he didn’t say anything more, just clasped his hands politely behind his back, then smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man peered through the crack in Tommy’s hands, eyes hesitant but curious as he pried open the gap to stand flat in Tommy’s palm, nearly out in the open, only guarded by the towering fingers surrounding him. He cleared his throat, “Uh... hey, man?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer nodded briefly, his face painted with a self-contented grin, “My name is Harold Pontiff Coomer, or Dr. Coomer as most call me! And you are...?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m, ah...” the man looked over at Benrey, his bigger friend looking as bored and out of it as always, then up at Tommy, who had an almost relieved expression of his own. He sighed, “I’m Gordon. Gordon Freeman.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! Hello, Gordon!” Coomer beamed, lowering his voice to a tolerable level as he took a couple of steps forward and leaned down with one hand outstretched to offer a finger to shake, “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paused for a moment, falling one wary step back with his eyes locked on the intruding finger. Then, he shrugged, and placed one hand on the man’s fingertip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing to lose now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he fathomed, conceding to the inescapable reality of the new human in front of him, “Heh, nice to meet you too, Dr. Coomer...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer’s teeth shone from behind his bushy, white mustache as he gave Gordon’s hand a gentle shake, then released with an excited giggle, “So, you are real?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon patted at his chest, then shrugged, “Yeah, guess as real as I’m gonna get, sure.” he paused, looking the old man up and down, swallowing thickly as he processed the powerful bulk of his build, “You, uh, won’t tell the other guy out there about me, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course not!” Coomer laughed, "I'm afraid overloading Bubby with any new information may cause him to explode!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He'll </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer furrowed his brow, like Gordon’s confusion was unprecedented, like he should have expected to hear about the spontaneous combustion of a man, “Explode, Gordon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon just stared, jaw dropping for a moment before he collected himself. This wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d heard this past week, after all, “I— alright. Never mind.” he sighed, "Uh... Dr. Coomer... Did you happen to notice — y'know, when you punched a hole through the wall, heh — if there was anything there?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, for a while there I feared I was going senile!” He laughed, “Though, meeting you was enough to convince me of the... </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> see something?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely! More like </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in fact!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paused, eyes wide with adrenaline and bafflement as he leaned forward to speak more directly, “There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>more—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ he mumbled, though his voice continued to get louder with excitement, “What did they look like?” He gestured to himself, then held his hand up in a tight pinch, “They were small? Like me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer hummed, “I couldn’t get a clear look at them, but from what I could see, they looked like a man...” He smiled, “And yes! Just as small as you are, Gordon! Maybe smaller, if that’s even possible?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t even have it in him to fight against the accusations of being small, too caught up in the excitement of possibly seeing another borrower after all these years, “Could you take me up there? To them?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can you tell im afraid to write bubby. i have no clue how to write him so im procrastinating on it. AGAIN gotta apologize for the inconsistency for when the chapters are posted... i am writing this fic and combating burnout for it by working on ANOTHER fic (to be posted... hopefully... if i like it enough) so there might start a switchout between when each fic is posted! maybe! plus all my fuckin schoolwork getting me down... anyway! thank you so much for reading!! and to everyone that comments you are FOR REAL my lifeblood i love getting them and responding and reading so much &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the crew takes a short trip, and gordon meets a stranger</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BET YOU THOUGHT I DIED! nope! i just take eons to write.... SORRY ABOUT THE CLIFFHANGER AND THE DISAPPEARANCE! making up for this is the longest chapter i have written, clocking in at around 3000 words! ENJOY!!! now my friends are yelling at me to sleep sooooo ZZZZZZ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Coomer smile dropped then, as he wrung his hands out in front of him, giving a halfhearted shrug, "Now, Gordon," he spoke, quieter than he had before, the tone warier, more cautionary, "I don't believe that would be very wise! Our apartment was evacuated for a reason, after all. And besides, I wouldn't even know where to begin to look!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head, patting expectantly on Tommy's thumb, who seemed to get the clue as he lowered the man to the floor. Gordon was quick to hop off, and took a few steps forward towards Coomer as he spoke, "Alright, yeah, but I would. This person had to have been living like me, right?" He scratched his head, "There's, uh, really only a couple of ways you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> live when you're this... small, hah."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now that Tommy's hands were empty, Sunkist shambled over to claim her rightful spot: her massive, golden head rested firmly in his lap. He scratched her head, rubbing behind her ears, earning himself a contented sigh from the dog. He spoke, his words coming out more like a direct train of thought than a string of coherent, knowledgeable sentences, "M-Mr. Freeman, have you ever been outside of this apartment...? Y-You said you lived here, right? Plus, Dr. Coomer may be right! It could be dangerous..." He smiled, sweetly, "What— what if I— we go up there, and you tell us what to do!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What, like some kinda bank heist?" Gordon joked, but when Tommy simply nodded, not objecting to the idea at all, Gordon sighed, "Tommy... You're nice and all, man, but no other borrower aside from me is gonna know that. Look, imagine this: you're me. You're five inches tall—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"that's being generous..." Benrey teased in a mumble.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're five inches tall</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and some stranger just saw you, okay?" Gordon stumbled over his words for a minute, looking for his train of thought, losing exactly where he was meaning to go with this analogy. He gave up, and flung out his arms, "That's terrifying, dude!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy deflated at that, frowning a bit as he rubbed his chin, "Y-You really don't think I could get them to say hi?" he questioned, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> came out, Mr. Freeman..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, "I only got caught by accident. If you two didn't have such fucked up schedules, I doubt I would have shown myself." Tommy deflated even further, looking dejected. Gordon covered his bases, "Hey, like I said before, dude: you're great. Just, y'know, you're also uh... fuckin' huge. And rules are rules."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. He understood, of course — no one followed rules as close as he did, or respected the written word with as much dedication — but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. He'd done his best to be gentle and welcoming to Gordon as he gradually warmed up to the pair. He sat in silence, patting Sunkist's belly as she nudged at his hands with her paws, wondering about the other mysterious stranger of the building; wondering if he'd ever get to meet them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold</span>
  </em>
  <span> them like he had with Gordon — he'd never gotten over the euphoria and responsibility of holding an entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the palm of his hands, but nothing showed trust quite like the over encompassing grasp that eclipsed the light of day for any borrower that'd allowed him to do so.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, "Gordon, you believe if someone were to bring you up there, you'd be able to find this person?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, of course!" Gordon nodded, craning his neck to meet Coomer's eyes. He shrugged, "That is, if they're still there, I guess."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Still there?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Coomer inquired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, we kinda have... rules?" Gordon explained, rubbing the back of his neck, "Usually if you're seen, you're meant to get outta there as soon as possible. They could be gone already."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer bent down in a feeble attempt to be at eye level with Gordon, his features worried, "Well, we can't have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Every moment wasted talking, they could be on their way out!" He grinned, gentle but questioning, "Gordon, do you trust me to bring you up to our apartment? Or, would you prefer one of your good buddies?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon averted his eyes, feeling a short pang of nervousness at the idea. He turned to glance at the two men behind him, both of whom looked as expectantly back at Gordon. Tommy rested his hands atop Sunkist's head, the dog sleeping soundly in his lap. Gordon exhaled, happily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gentle giant.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Tommy's gonna come along. Is that good? The guy's gentle enough with me, plus if we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> find someone up there I doubt they're gonna wanna hop into your hands. No offense, hah."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"None taken!" He grinned, ear to ear as he leaned down to rest one wide, powerful hand on the carpet, palm up next to Gordon. Gordon, surprisingly, barely hesitated, stepping firmly onto the man's... surprisingly warm hand, though it was uncharacteristically tough, not pliable at all, the gentle weight Gordon rested into the flesh below his feet doing nothing to leave a dent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or, at least he just assumed flesh, before he truly looked down at the hand beneath him: delicately riveted steel, the palm and fingertips lined with a thin pad of tough, black rubber. Gordon, caught up in all of the panic and uncertainty, hadn't noticed the bands of spring-loaded metal that crept up the man's arms, stopping just above his bicep. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was wrong for holding out a bit of hope for someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>naturally human,</span>
  </em>
  <span> with everyone he'd met thus far. Gordon sighed. At least he could say he never broke the rules, having never exactly been seen by a human.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down in the man's palm, gripping onto one of the massive fingertips that curled to meet him with a high-pitched mechanical whine. Coomer's arm raised to his chest with machine-like precision, every movement steady; it felt like Gordon was on solid ground, rather than four feet in the air in the hands of a giant. Coomer - with his other hand - pulled open the shirt pocket of his button-up and allowed Gordon a moment to hop off his hand and get comfortable as he leaned over the lip of the pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy smiled as he stood, staring at the little man now situated in Coomer's pocket with a face of determination that made him seem larger than life. Even if he was dwarfed by the older man's expansive chest at his back, Gordon's excitement  - and slight nervousness - was enough to inspire anyone. "A-Are you— are we ready?" Tommy asked, patting Sunkist on the head one last time before she padded over to Benrey to beg for attention from him instead, "Benrey, did you want to come?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey perked up at that, the yellow in his eyes disappearing behind the lazy black of widening pupils and the wider-than-usual eyelids that surrounded them, "wh. you'd let me?" he asked, shyly fiddling with Sunkist's fur, twisting it into short, golden braids.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon shrugged, "Yeah, man. If you want—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Gordon, if you don't mind me interrupting," Coomer butted in, only asking after he did so, "I believe it'd be better if Bipple was to stay put!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What? I mean- why?" Gordon questioned, quirking one eyebrow as he tilted his head to stare up at the bright-eyed man above him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> need someone to distract Dr. Bubby. Curiosity killed the cat, and all that, haha! " Coomer laughed, then gestured broadly at Benrey, "Barney here would do the job quite well!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>worryingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> excited, a sly smile making its way onto his face, bright, sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips. Those eyes were suddenly sharp, the gentle, questioning softness that filled them before when he spoke to Gordon gone with the chance to pester someone. And bothering someone with </span>
  <em>
    <span>permission</span>
  </em>
  <span> only made it better. Benrey shrugged, "hey. i don't know what you're talking about. i've never been annoying, like, ever. bubby is my best friend, i don't wanna bother him..." He muttered, but he had already pushed past Tommy and Coomer, and was already halfway out the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon rolled his eyes, scoffing a bit as he laughed, and Tommy smiled fondly after his roommate. Gordon slipped further into Coomer's pocket, resting his back against the curve of the pocket's inseam. He gave the man the go-ahead to follow after Benrey and into the living room; a firm, but not rough, pounding on Coomer's chest was enough to assure the man that he was in the green. Coomer returned the gesture with a soft pat to the pocket before he started to walk, Tommy following shortly after him. Sunkist continued to lay contently on Benrey's bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey, on the other hand, was already sitting on the countertop, not inches away from where Bubby leaned against it as well. He wasn't about to waste any time, and Bubby already looked like he was on his last nerve. Coomer couldn't help that familiar,  amused smile, "Bubby, Tommy and I are going to speak with his father about our apartment, but Bonny is here to keep you company." He placed his hand on the door handle, pulling it open to the cold air outside. Tommy slipped out ahead of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're going to leave me alone with him?" Bubby questioned, expression incredulous and on the verge of snapping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We won't be gone long, Professor!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm going to kill him, Harold."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer stood in the doorway, Tommy staring worriedly over his shoulder, "Well, I can't stop you!" He concluded, closing the door quickly behind him. Before they could get too far away from the apartment, the three couldn't help but hear the commotion coming from inside: a soft string of monotone mumbling followed by a sickening crash behind closed doors. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon couldn't help but laugh, but Tommy had half a mind to go back inside and check on the sorry state of the apartment. He fiddled with the hem of his sweater, "Do... Do you think they'll be okay?" He questioned, saddling up to Coomer's side to whisper, "I- I don't think Bubby likes Benrey much... I'm worried about them."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Nonsense, Tommy!" Coomer laughed, giving Tommy a well-meaning-but-rough punch to his shoulder, "Benrey cannot die!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy rubbed the spot of contact, wincing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That sure was going to leave a bruise... </span>
  </em>
  <span>He smiled, though, the reminder of Benrey's immortality reassuring him that his roommate would be okay. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The reminder did the opposite for Gordon. Sure, he knew Benrey wasn't human - that much was obvious - and Tommy had </span>
  <em>
    <span>implied</span>
  </em>
  <span> his supernatural background before, but the nonchalant restatement of the fact by Coomer was enough to get him thinking. His metal arms, the inhuman strength... everything pointed to the unwanted truth. Gordon took one wary glance out of the pocket, and spotting no one around, leaned over the lip of it, “So, Dr. Coomer, you’re uh... you’re not human either, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer pressed the down indicator on the elevator, a soft hum and the warm exhale of a slow breath washed over Gordon as Coomer began to speak, “Well, Gordon, that is an... </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span>... question. At heart, I am as human as anyone!” He smiled, “As for the rest of my body, I could say otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> some kinda robot?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator opened with a ding, and the party was quick to catch a ride, “Not a robot, Gordon, but a cyborg.” He raised a hand, letting pieces extend a bit then click back into place with the quiet hiss of whirring servos as the elevator reached the ground floor of the apartment building, “Some parts of me are still human, if that soothes your worries!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I— You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cyborg?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> How much—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have my ExtendoArms™, SuperLegs™, Super</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lungs</span>
  </em>
  <span>™, artificial col— Ah!” Coomer interrupted himself, “My apartment!” Coomer didn’t even finish his thought, just pulled open the front door, revealing the wasteland of a living room in front of them. The room was smaller than that of the Coolatta apartment, a hallway leading to only one bedroom instead of two, but aside from that, the two apartments looked essentially the same: decor was different, furniture was faded and worn, as if they’d been there for years, organized clutter around the room, extra screws and bolts in a bin atop the coffee table in the center of the soaked, circle carpet. If not for the multiple holes in the drywall and the slow, steady dripping of water from the busted pipe, the apartment would have been rather comfy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Home sweet home...” Coomer sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon’s eyes locked onto the aforementioned dripping pipe and the hole that forced it open. He tapped Coomer frantically on the chest, stopping the man in his tracks as he pointed excitedly at the damage, “Hey, hold on. That’s the hole you saw ‘em in, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely, Gordon!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon grinned, “Alright, that’s where we start.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy paced anxiously in front of the wall as Coomer approached, pulling Gordon out of his pocket by the back of his collar and placing him, once more, to sit on the hard rubber pad of his mechanical hand. He raised his palm as a platform to the pipe, and Gordon prepared to take a step off the metal palm before he was cut off by Tommy’s open hand sweeping down in front of him, “I-I don’t know, Mr. Freeman... Can— will you be safe?” He paused, taking a moment to collect his scattered thoughts before speaking again, “I-It’s dangerous, isn’t it? What if t-this person doesn’t want visitors?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t know if I don’t check it out, yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looked concerned, his brow furrowing into a tight-knit line.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, Tommy, I gotta go look, alright?” Gordon smiled, reassuringly, “I haven’t seen someone my size in a long fuckin’ time! You gotta imagine that sucks, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman...” Tommy whispered, his voice warning, but gentle. When Gordon didn’t budge — face set in a challenge — he sighed, and lifted his hand, “Just be safe, please, Mr. Freeman? W-We can’t help you once you’re in there!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon wasted no time hopping into the alcove in the wall, “I’ll check if anyone’s around and get back out here as soon as possible, alright? Plus, I can hear you two loud and clear just incase something fuckin’ awful </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen and we need to leave.” He gave Tommy one last self-assured thumbs up, paired with an excited, warm smile, “Ol’ Gordon’s got this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping through the hole in the drywall, Gordon found himself alone for the first time in a couple of days. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t strange — no longer being surrounded by the near-constant talking or the ever-present white noise he was subjected to from the sound of a living... giant — but the return to the quiet ambience of the walls was something he had missed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had no light, having left that at home when he’d first gotten himself hurt, but the darkness of the walls was familiar enough and his eyes adjusted quickly. One hand stayed permanently running across the wood panels, tracing his path towards every rustle, every creak he could hear over the worried mumbling from Tommy just a couple of inches away, the thin drywall the only barrier muffling the man’s string of consciousness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was giddy with excitement, his heart racing from the pure adrenaline of being back in the walls paired with the growing evidence that a borrower had been here — and they’d been here </span>
  <em>
    <span>recently</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Insulation was carved out around electrical sockets, fallout of fiberglass was swept into neat piles, warning markings were hastily carved into the support beams just a few feet away from the site of the broken pipe; a small droplet, the sign of possible water damage in the area, and a larger, more dangerous symbol right next to it — a staring eye, shakily engraved by a panicked, rushed hand, the telltale sign of a borrower who’d been seen. Running into a symbol like that would make any other borrower’s blood run cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon only quickened his pace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That symbol was new, it had to have been carved within the last few hours, but every moment he waited would only give the borrower who carved it more time to flee the building. Every sign pointed him in a new direction, but scuffed footprints through the thin layer of dust on the ground was his best bet. Luckily, the path was a straight shot and Gordon didn’t need to climb too far besides occasionally vaulting over a stray two-by-four, but it wasn’t long before the dust tapered out, the walls began to get warmer, dim light started to flood into the hallway in front of him. A curtain, tacked into the support beam above it, was the only thing separating the normal space in the walls from the hospitality of the borrower’s den.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon smiled, standing just before the closed curtain, running one hand through the crown of his braided hair as he took a long, deep breath, and gently pulled aside the orange fabric, opening the den to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was bright, lit mainly by a small, covered lightbulb powered by a battery. An empty nest of soft fabric sat in the corner, accompanied by a few stacks of clothing and knitting needles fashioned with grips and sashes creating a hurriedly collected pile next to the borrower’s pack: whoever lived here </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> still here, but they were quickly on their way out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thimbles and discarded bottle caps filled with bright colored liquids sat idly on a carved out piece of wood on the far side of the room, stained rags laying in a pile next to them. Flour, salt, sugar — more than Gordon had ever managed to stockpile himself — had their own little cabinet. It wasn’t exactly what Gordon had come to expect, usually seeing more common provisions wrapped and stored away for future use, not the prized collection of whoever seemed to live here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The entire room was bigger than he expected it to be, but perfectly fit to him. A room </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> for someone his size, but that someone was nowhere to be found. Gordon stood awkwardly in the center of the room, feeling like an intruder, but too stubborn to turn back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few pacing steps forward, only to be stopped by the frantic mumbling and rustling of a stranger just behind a secondary curtain beside the counter of thimbles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon nearly laughed at the sight of the man that pushed into the living room; coiled, dark hair and equally dark skin, a stripe of greying curls just above his ears on either side, shorter than Gordon was and eons more panicked as he struggled with the armfuls of tin foil and saran wrap he’d pulled from the pantry behind him. He mumbled to himself, and all Gordon could do was stare in shock before the stranger did just the same, tearing himself out of his panicked state to spot Gordon standing silently in the corner of his den. He jumped, nearly dropping everything he was holding </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>The stranger took a moment to collect his thoughts, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the materials in his arms, “I— Hey. Who are you?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>to everyone who thought it was gonna be forzen. who do you think i am. ANYWAY! darnold is here now! this chapter was spurred from the section in my notes for this fic that just said "- darnold" as a plotpoint. this man deserves more content... he was done dirty. THANKS FOR READIN!!! going back and responding to everyone's comments on previous chapters is so much fun and i love to see your thoughts so thank you for leaving them!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>darnold and gordon do a little mingling, and something clicks</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO EVERYBODY! *puts on my little jester hat and shoes* time for my chapter lateness apology again. it is finals week and whatever BUT i’m finally finished with my big show for the semester (a puppet show fully created and acted in by me and my group LOL) and i only got a couple finals left... SO hopefully i will get back in the swing of things asap. ANYWAY! ENJOY!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The two men didn't break eye contact for a matter of seconds, though the span felt like it lasted an hour. Their faces were painted with contrasting emotion — the stranger's eyes were wide with shock, paired with a bit of fear at the new borrower in his den, while Gordon couldn't help the giddy smile growing on his face — but they shared the same shine of curiosity and excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon smiled, warm and genuine, as he spoke in a laugh, "Holy fuck, hey!" He took a few steps towards the man quickly, excitedly. He stopped, though, when the man lurched back and clutched his belongings even closer to his chest. The stranger's eyes darted around the room, looking for a quick exit from the room or an explanation of the new borrower that had somehow made his way into his den. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon threw his hands above his head, palms flat in a placating gesture, planting one solid foot behind himself — if the man didn't want visitors after all, he'd be ready to get out of there at any moment's notice. Just because he was away from the prying eyes of the giants an inch of drywall and insulation away, didn't mean those inherent borrower instincts had disappeared, "Yeah, uh. Barging in was kinda impolite on my part, hah." He gave a halfhearted smile, "B-But I'm not here to steal from you or anything! You can relax!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man blinked, fidgeting with the things in his arms for a couple of seconds before meeting eyes with Gordon again. He nodded, slightly, "Oh. Okay?" He shifted, placing his belongings next to the bottle caps full of dyes and juices, "Well, you don't look familiar... Are you, uh, new to the building? I... haven't seen you around here before, I don't think...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Kinda, yeah. Gordon Freeman. Uh, that's my name. I moved into apartment twenty-one for the winter, tried to stay warm and out of the snow." Gordon shrugged, then reached out for a handshake, "And... who are you, man?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man hesitantly accepted Gordon's hand, returning the gesture with a firm up and down, "My name's Darnold."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man's hands were surprisingly soft, though callouses sharpened the lines where each finger bent, every curve and wrinkle deep and work-hardened, skin thick and tough from years and years of rope burn. The concentrated warmth of an undeniably </span>
  <em>
    <span>natural</span>
  </em>
  <span> borrower's hand, something Gordon hadn't felt since he last saw his family. It was strange, holding hands with someone his own size after being touted around by people hundreds of times bigger than he was for the past few days. He grinned, caught up in the brief euphoria, only for that content smile to drop with the expression on Darnold's face; eyes darting around the room with a tight-lipped smile, confused, and overall, a bit... freaked out. Gordon pulled his hand away, shaking it out, awkwardly, before shoving it back into his pocket. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he'd held on for too long... </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Darnold...? That's not—" </span>
  <em>
    <span>a name </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon finished to himself, stopping in the middle of his sentence. He knew someone named </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for god's sake, not to mention </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bubby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Y'know what? Never mind. Cool to meet you, dude!" Gordon gestured to the hallway behind him, "Not to break the mood or anything, but I saw your markings in the hall..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold paused from packing his bag, nearly jumping at the offhand mention of the carvings that had caused him so much stress the past day or so. He took a deep breath, then turned to Gordon, as calm as the borrower could be, "Y-You did, didn't you? Yes, I made those. This morning."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you like... okay? Did you get hurt?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man patted down his sides, as if he was looking for something or checking if everything was in place, giving Gordon a short, anxious nod before turning back to the work at hand, "Well, I'm not </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But I'm not in the best of sorts, either." He hurriedly pushed past the taller borrower, bundling up the pile of sticks and stacks of bowls near the door, "I've been trying to get out of here as soon as possible, if you can't tell. I... have more stuff than I expected, though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon spun around, "You're </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna move out? Dude, that's— you're out of your mind!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold didn't break pace, just continuing to pack with an incredulous look that crossed his face, "I'd be out of my mind if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>stayed!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He hoisted a couple of the patchwork bags of flour and sugar in his hand, tying them in a quick clove-hitch knot around the worn leather of his belt, right next to his hook, "Plus, rules are rules, Gordon. I love adventure as much as the next guy, but I'm not exactly willing to risk my life on it!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But it's fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing</span>
  </em>
  <span> out there, man! Take it from me, I actually got </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> a couple of days ago—" Darnold looked shocked, "yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I was still inside. What is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>plan</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't stay in the building, that's stupid." Darnold huffed, slinging his pack over his shoulder, "It won't be easy, but there's a house down the block that I know is free. I'll finally get that taste of fresh air and wind on my back that I haven't felt for years!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused for a moment, then covered his eyes with a groan, running his hands up and through his hair, the braids from the night before coming loose in his fingers. He felt a bit guilty about that, but he was sure Benrey would jump at the chance to do it again, "I— Alright, look, dude. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> outside for most of my life, and I made that same trip you're planning on to get to </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> building. You were right when you said it's not easy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold shifted on his feet, "I don't—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How long did he see you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The borrower's eyes darted around the room once more, clearly unwilling to answer the question but obliging nonetheless, "We... We made eye contact, Gordon. He stared at me for a couple of seconds."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon stepped forward and placed both hands on Darnold's shoulders, eyes caring but piercing, "So he didn't, like, grab at you or anything?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold shook his head, each swallow dry and constricted, feeling like cotton in his throat. A sinking suspicion began to form in the back of his mind, only growing by the moment, "W-Well, no. But his hand was very close."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Darnold— Okay. 'Rules are rules' or whatever the fuck, but I think you should stick around here." Gordon explained, not breaking his stare with the man's perpetually shifty eyes, "It sounds crazy, but I—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their little 'peace' was broken by the violent shimmying of Darnold's shoulders as he grabbed Gordon by the wrists, shaking off his hands. He lurched back, chest heaving with quick, heavy breaths. Eyes wide and heart in his throat, that panicked suspicion now the only thing at the forefront of his mind. He shook his head, readjusting his pack with a huff, "Gordon, I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaving</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This life isn't going to save itself. Why are you even trying to convince me to stay?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I, uh, actually came up here to meet you. And to, y'know, stop you from leaving... I guess." Gordon shrugged, the smile on his face soft and melancholy, "Guess that one stands a failure, huh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold shook his head, "What... How did you know... I was up here? I haven't been up a floor in years! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you know that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Look—</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No!" Darnold shouted, hand readied on the blade at his side, "You don't get to just come in here and tell me I should be sticking around when... when some </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows about me! Do you know how dangerous that is, Gordon?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're really not bad guys! Y'know, just a little - ok a lot - fuckin' loud, but they mean well!" Gordon defended the men, his voice raising to demand attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one out of your mind! Why— why haven't you left already? Did they put you up to this?" Darnold stepped forward as his hand still gripped at the hilt of his blade - a long since dulled craft-knife blade, leather-wrapped around the protruding end - but the rest of his body shivered. Each and every nerve on end, sweat beading on his brow, Darnold did his best to steady himself before the stranger. He'd been too caught up in the curiosity of the new man in his den that he hadn't noticed the red flags that popped up the minute he laid eyes on Gordon; everything about him should have set off an alarm, from his sudden appearance to the fact that he was unarmed and without a hook. No borrower would be caught dead without anything to defend themself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon held his hands out in front of his chest, shaking his head with an offended noise, "What? No! I-I came up here on my own damn time! In fact, they didn't even wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>let</span>
  </em>
  <span> me come up here at all! I had to beg!" He took a step forward as to match Darnold, set firmly in a challenge, "Look, Tommy even warned me not to come up here just in case you didn't want visitors. Which, uh, I see now he may have been right. What I'm saying is, they're not as bad as you think!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're </span>
  <em>
    <span>humans!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And we're </span>
  <em>
    <span>borrowers! </span>
  </em>
  <span>What are you trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say?!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon was yelling now, voice raised as his hands moved at a mile a minute, each word paired with some sort of wide and exaggerated gesture. Never would he have imagined he'd be </span>
  <em>
    <span>defending</span>
  </em>
  <span> some humans to his own kind, but life was unpredictable, he figured. He had to pull himself away from yelling Darnold into a corner, instead resorting to pacing around the den as he shouted, "They aren't— Not every </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> human is bad! You know as little about them as they know about you! You can't go judging them without even </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in Darnold had changed, if only just a little bit. The once iron grip on his blade had loosened, leaving only his fingers to gently graze the worn down leather, and the stiffness in his legs subsided. He was still ready to run at any moment, of course, but Gordon's statement had thrown him for a loop. For a moment, he thought; Gordon was right, in his own way. Darnold didn't know the humans on the other side of the wall. He knew nothing about them besides their size. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, he figured that was enough. It's rule number one, and Darnold had already broken it. He didn't exactly want to go on to break anymore. He sighed, raising his voice to a commanding level, stopping Gordon in his tracks, "Not to burst your bubble, Gordon, but I need to reiterate that they are </span>
  <em>
    <span>humans</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They may be nice to you, but how am I meant to know that! Just because you're their friend, or I don't know the whole story doesn't mean I'm not afraid. T-That's all I'll be saying on that, thank you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon gawked, watching Darnold continue to pack up, nearly finished with everything he wanted to bring along. Darnold glanced around the room with a tired, solemn stare; his den empty, the place in shambles from his frantic packing. Gordon knew that look like the back of his own hand, having been uprooted so many times before, whether it be from storm, animal, or human suspicion. Outside borrowers moved more than anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For some reason, all Gordon wanted to do was yell. Watching someone fall into a life they weren't prepared to live was the straw that broke the camel's back. It all felt too close to home, too close to the panic he'd experienced before. He rubbed his eyes, tugging at the wavy hair hanging over his face a bit, "You'll </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Darnold!  You- you ask why I haven't left yet, and it's because I'm afraid of the outside. You think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go out there again? You think I can fucking handle that </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone?!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon smacked a hand to his chest, tears beginning to brim in his eyes, "It's not something you do alone! Especially for the first time you step foot outside. I lived like that for years and I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> afraid! Why can't you fucking see that? You'll—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Freeman...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, both of the men staring at each other in silence. A range of emotions passed over Darnold's face, none of them good; that sinking, gut wrenching fear, paired with a sense of impending death as he cowered, waiting for another one of those massive steel hands to crash through the layers of wood and drywall just above his head. Waiting for whatever was going to happen to him rear its ugly head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon softened, dropping the tension in his shoulders, his hands falling to his side as he stared at the sorry state of the man in front of him. He frowned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a gentle knock at the wall, and despite the softness of it, Darnold jumped out of his skin at Tommy's voice, "...Mr. Freeman, a-are you okay in there? Did you find anyone? There is— there was a lot of yelling before..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold didn't even lift his head, clasping his hands over his ears. All of a sudden, the room was too warm, the dim light of his battery-powered lamp far too bright, every sound was deafening. There was no burn at his neck just yet, but a soft, foreboding tingling was beginning to itch down his back. He shivered. Gordon sighed, frown still plastered on his face, then turned to shout at the wall behind him, "Yeah, Tommy. We're here!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh! Hi, other person!" he said with a smile that Gordon could hear, and Darnold lifted his head ever so slightly. Tommy began again, his giddy tone melting into a concerned - but still perfectly loud - mumble, "W-Well, you two should probably get out of there soon. It's..." he paused with a drawn-out hum, presumably checking the time on his wristwatch, "It's seven-thirty! Y-You've been in there for about twenty minutes. I... I think Bubby might start to get suspicious if we stay much longer..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon felt a hand at his shoulder, firm but hesitant. He turned, meeting the frantic, dark eyes of a borrower on edge, every muscle tensed and ready to run. Darnold swallowed the cotton in his throat, “W-What does he mean by... </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you two’</span>
  </em>
  <span>...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh... I told you already, man.” Gordon rubbed his neck, “I kinda came up here to get you to... come with me? Maybe? Like I said, they’re cool—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It almost felt like it was in the blink of an eye, but Darnold was already on his feet. He pushed past Gordon, leaving behind the bags he deemed unnecessary that would only weigh him down during his escape. He stumbled on his way to the exit, only slowing his pace for a brief moment to take one final glance at the room behind him, brows knitted to match his tight-lipped frown. Then, he was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gone out the door that Gordon had come in through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door that led to the busted pipe and the hole in the wall...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...The </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> exit that Tommy and Coomer knew of.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>quick warning to everyone i am planning on bringing this fic to a close soon... maybe a couple more chapters? we’ll see. BUT! i will probably not be dropping the crew and the borrower au and will just resort to one shots of the characters and their antics yknow? OK! this’ll help me get more creative and passionate about what i am writing since writing big fics like this isn’t exactly my forte... this fic was NOT meant to be this long LMAO but i’ve utilized it so i can introduce all the characters and continue with one shots. THANKS TO EVERYONE FOR READING  THUS FAR! hope what i’m planning doesn’t turn anyone away from this! MWAH MWAH KISSES</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>darnold runs into a bit of trouble, tommy makes a friend. a special someone makes a cameo</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BEFORE WE GET STARTED my dear good friend sora gave me some art for christmas of this fic and i was given the permission to share it!</p>
<p>https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/710708049966399493/793341431958732800/image0.png</p>
<p>PLEASE CHECK OUT THEM AND THEIR ART ON TUMBLR @ pastel-sora AND @ soradraws !!!!</p>
<p>(co written by the sara frostios evil general vc)<br/>(just kidding i was forced to say that ^^ hi sara)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darnold didn't know where he was going. Well, he knew he was in the walls at home, and of course, he knew each and every bend and turn that faced him in the corridors ahead, but he didn't know where he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fear and adrenaline charged his instinct, and before he could even comprehend it, he was running. He remembered pushing past Gordon with a clumsy shove, stumbling out of the curtain-covered doorway only to hear a string of expletives followed by a panicked 'woah, wait' from the man who was now just a few steps behind him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't remember when it had turned into a chase, but the racing of his heart paired with his clouded judgment convinced him that the man hot on his heels was only after one thing: him. And with Gordon's history of relationships with humans, that was enough to keep him going. Dust and fiberglass followed in every footstep, becoming airborne and barely settling for just a millisecond before being stirred up again by his pursuer. Wooden beams faced him at every turn, though muscle memory dodged each one without a second thought, passing just a hair away from his head. He only pushed himself harder when he heard Gordon stumble behind him, each </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> followed by a mumbled curse as he tripped over the beams and slipped in the fallout of the insulation, the darkness of the walls not doing him any favors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold's head felt... stormy. Nothing quite made sense, but instinct and panicked plans passed through the clouds like bolts of lightning. Blood roared in his ears, his heartbeat audible. His throat felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, tears brimming at his eyes. Everything was wrong, the situation only getting more confusing with every footstep he took leading him in a direction where he couldn't predict the outcome. All he knew was he had to escape the walls — and Gordon — as quickly as possible, and down this hallway was the closest exit: the hole in the wall made only hours beforehand. He had no clue what he'd do once he actually made his way onto the warping hardwood floors, aside from running — he wasn't sure how he'd react to seeing the full height of the humans, well, more so how he'd react to them seeing </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a risk he was going to have to take. He'd have to face his fears, one way or another, if he ever planned on escaping to those adventures he'd always dreamed of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seconds stretched into minutes, the path down the hallway feeling as if it took ages to traverse. Every sound was too loud, the steady rhythm of Gordon's footsteps occasionally stumbling behind him was deafening along with the angry beat of his heart in his ears. The darkness of the tunnels was offset by the blinding glare of unusually cool, harsh light, shifting with minuscule movements. Shadows grew on the wall, only to shrink again in cyclic movement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was too late. Darnold was too slow, too confused, too </span>
  <em>
    <span>panicked</span>
  </em>
  <span> to realize what was wrong before he faced it himself. It wasn't until he was staring directly into that spotlight — his shadow projecting a dark void on the wall behind him, a deep black form breaking up the stark white shine — that he realized just how blind he'd been. Just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He really hadn't paid attention as he ran, pure adrenaline fueling his every move. He hadn't stopped to think about the... unforeseen consequences of his actions as he barreled down the halls to any possible escape. Now, with the blinding advent of an LED phone flashlight placed perfectly at the top of the hole in the wall, every misstep, every miscalculation, every </span>
  <em>
    <span>consequence</span>
  </em>
  <span> was so blatantly obvious. For a couple of seconds, all Darnold could see was that bright light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And by god did he wish it stayed that way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing could have prepared him for that light to suddenly flick off with a digitized </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span>, leaving him with spots in his eyes, floundering in the dark with his back against the wall as he rubbed them away. He almost didn't want to pull his hands from his face. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and if hiding away from the quiet-but-deafening gasp from outside the drywall would bring him some kind of comfort, Darnold was all for it. Though, eventually, his eyes were forced open by the gentle hand on his shoulder, and Gordon's exhausted huffing at his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His view was filled by one massive, curious face. Eyes blown wide, lips slack in a soft 'o', yellow irises... glowing? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why were they glowing?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The dim shine was oddly captivating, framed by long, thick eyelashes and tan skin adorned with a tint of pink. If he weren't so big, he'd be rather—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Darnold couldn't be thinking like that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back to the present, Darnold met eyes with the stranger in front of him, only for a second before the man's head shifted to reveal the second stranger behind him. The older man that had punched a hole in the wall, the one that made him have to move, the one that </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. He slipped from Gordon's grasp with an undignified yelp, hiding only inches away from the crack in the drywall in a shallow dead end. Back against the wall, eyes blown wide, Darnold took a deep breath as Gordon sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Dr. Coomer, could I get a lift?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Absolutely, Gordon!" The man — Dr. Coomer, Gordon had referred to him, though Darnold remembered him as Harold — cleared his throat, "And your friend? Does he need a 'lift' as well?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon waved his hand, "Nah, not yet. He's all freaked out."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then Gordon was gone, stepping out of the hole in the wall and onto the new metal platform that hovered just outside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold had to stop himself from hyperventilating. His breath was too loud, too frantic. He clapped a hand over his mouth, pulling in air with long drags through his nose. He could barely hear the chatter between Gordon and Coomer from over the sound of his own heartbeat, but the few words he caught only made his stomach flip. Darnold did his best to calm himself, though. Panicking only makes things worse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He held that sentiment as long as he could, slowing his breaths and wiping the tears from his eyes. He'd be fine, as long as he could stay hidden as long as possible. Just a few more minutes before the giant men outside the walls were convinced he somehow got away, or he was never there at all. He'd be—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One massive forefinger wiped away the dust and grime directly next to Darnold's feet. For a second, it lingered, tracing slow circles over the wood of the floor, searching with taps from the oversized fingernail. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tap, tap, tap, </span>
  </em>
  <span>until one glanced off the toe of his shoe. He watched in horror as the finger stopped moving, drawing back slightly with a flinch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Scratch that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Darnold couldn't help the strangled gasp that was torn from his throat. He wished he could lean further back, phase through the wall behind him as he clawed his fingernails into the wooden beams and pressed his head into the insulation. Fiberglass was the least of his worries. Being stuck in a dead end, paired with the sight of that massive hand only millimeters away —  close enough to make out each and every minuscule blemish, freckle or hair, little scars from slip-ups with kitchen knives — was the only thing that concerned him. Chipped nails and fiberglass splinters could be dealt with later.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If he got out of this, that is.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Woah, woah, Tommy!" Gordon shouted, pulled out of his conversation with Coomer, "You're gonna give the guy a heart attack, man!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy tore his hand away like he'd been shocked, "O-Oh! I didn't— I'm sorry, Mr. Wall Man!" Tommy paused for a moment, face twisting into a concerned frown as he turned to Gordon. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Do you think he's okay, Mr. Freeman? I-I wasn't thinking..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon opened his mouth to reassure Tommy, only to be cut off by a stuttered shout from the wall, "I-I'm perfectly fine, aside from the... scare. Though, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go sticking your hands someplace they don't belong!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All three men stopped, standing in gaping silence, focused locked on the punched-out hole. Tommy almost reeled back, his eyes glowing with a curious glint, while Coomer shone with a wide smile that gradually made it from ear to ear. Gordon failed to suppress the hearty belly laugh that pushed its way into his throat, bursting at the seams and leaning against Coomer's neck for support.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy was first to speak, "I-I wasn't thinking, Mr. Wall Man. I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. I don't— I won't do it again!" He self-consciously scratched at his face, "O-On a lighter note! Do you— could we know your name? My name is Tommy!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, the only sound in the room was the dripping of pipes and quiet whirr of machinery from Coomer's core. Then, another shaking sentence, "Uh... Darnold. My name is Darnold Pepper."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Darnold!" Tommy chuckled, his smile audible, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Pepper!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon almost seemed jealous, "Man, how'd you get him to tell you his </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> name, too?! How do you do this shit?" He patted his chest, "I'm the same size as the guy and he didn't even tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> that!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy raised one silencing finger, "It's because I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>polite</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mr. Freeman. You don't— You usually aren't very nice!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Tommy is right, Gordon! You are often very rude." Coomer added, "Plus, Tommy is an incredibly gentle young man!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Dr. Coomer," Gordon floundered as he searched for words, "We just met today! What makes you think I'm rude?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Coomer hummed, "I trust what Tommy says. And you did ask about my augmentations!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"T-That </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty rude, Mr. Freeman... And—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright! Can we just focus on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> man in the wall, please?!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold didn't know why he was doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was doing, didn't know why he was suddenly speaking to the strangers that could kill him in a second, didn't know why he hadn't tried to run yet despite those huge, lingering yellow eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed everything in the past half an hour or so had been a blur of uncertainty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thumped his head against the wooden beam at his back. Sure, he'd been glad to see someone his size for the first time in what felt like forever, but Gordon was a different story. With him came the two giant strangers — and most likely more he didn't know about — one of which had been Harold Coomer, the stocky old man who lived in the apartment that had caused his panic originally, and the other a younger man — Tommy, he learned — with bright, curious eyes who was unusually kind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything he knew about humans prior to his... situation was quite the opposite. They weren't meant to be kind, nor apologetic — both of which Tommy was, and apparently as was Coomer, based on how plainly he and Gordon spoke. He found himself relaxing a bit, actually, as he listened to their muted bickering just a few feet away. Still on edge, of course, but with the focus off him, he could rest for a moment. Dream of the possibility of adventure. Take a deep breath before the questions start again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And they did. Tommy knocked gently on the wall before he spoke again, "...Mr. Pepper?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh! W-We kind of need to get going, if that's okay?" Tommy asked, inching his hand closer to the busted pipe, "Everyone else in my apartment i-is probably wondering where we are..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold didn't like the shadow shifting closer to him, blocking out a bit more of the light filtering in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a step forward, nearly peeking past the insulation. Just one step forward, and he'd be in the spotlight of those eyes once more. He took a deep breath, "W-Well, it was nice meeting you, Tommy! I'll be on my way, then..."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Wait!" Tommy exclaimed, accompanied by a dull </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he flatted his palm to the wall, his fingers creating a barrier between Darnold and escape, "Y-You shouldn't stay here... Our plan was to— we were going to bring you back with us!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Any step towards escape that Darnold had made was immediately backtracked with a panicked lunge. He stared at the offending hand, half planning to give it a curt kick, "Oh, no, absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I-I won't be going anywhere with any of you!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay here, Mr. Pepper! M-My dad — he owns the building — I know what happens with repairs! They're— They'll have a bunch of people come in a-and fix the pipes and it'll be loud and </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary</span>
  </em>
  <span> and—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"W-Well, I'm not exactly staying here, either. I have to leave. The building."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy paused, sparing a glance at Gordon, who supplied him with a defeated shrug. He gaped, "Thats— you can't do that! I-It's cold outside! Mr. Freeman was sick just a few days ago, a-and every day it's been just a bit below freezing! You can't— You won't survive."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold took a deep breath, closing his eyes and composing himself before peeking his head out just enough to catch Tommy's eyes. For some reason, his expression shocked Darnold; darker-than-usual eyes worriedly squinted, brows furrowed together in a tight line. Genuine, soft. Something pulled at his heartstrings, and he matched the expression, "...You're right, Tommy. I-I won't survive. It's the last thing I want to do, really, but rules are rules."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All three of the strangers deflated, but Tommy wasn't so ready to give up. His frown only fell further, but he pulled back his hand and leaned closer to the wall, "Could we— Can we make a deal?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Darnold drew back into the wall, but kept holding eye contact, "Like what...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Tommy's lips quirked up, "Y-You said you don't want to leave, right?—" Darnold nodded, "Well, we can't let you stay here since you might get hurt, a-and going outside could be a death sentence. So, why don't— what if you come with us until the pipe is fixed, and we bring you back when it's safe?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A beat of silence felt like it lasted a year, as Darnold thought over the possibilities. So much could go wrong, being in the presence of giants, but Gordon seemed okay, didn't he? Plus, he'd always spoken about adventure, and this was a prime opportunity; dangerous enough for the thrill, but with the promise of a safe return home. As that silence passed, again he nodded, taking a step into the spotlight, "What's your apartment number? I'll meet you there."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"A-Apartment twenty-one!" Tommy beamed, "We'll be—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'd hate to interject," Coomer interjected, "but I don't believe we have the time! At this rate, the maintenance man will be at this apartment in two minutes!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"H-How did you know...?" Darnold started.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was quick to wave his hands, "Don't worry about that right now, alright? Not our main problem!" He slid off of Coomer's shoulder, landing perfectly back into his chest pocket, "We gotta get outta here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer was quick to go to the door, peeking out of the peep-hole to keep watch. Tommy and Darnold were left at the wall. Tommy played with the hem of his shirt, "S-So, how do you want to do this...?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I, uh, well... I'd really rather not be picked up just yet. In your hands." Darnold anxiously twisted a curl at the back of his head, "Is there any other way?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy glanced around the room, loosening a thread from one of the buttonholes on his shirt. He noticed a pile in the corner of the room; stacked up in a hurry to avoid the gush of water that had flooded the floor and soaked the carpet. It consisted of shirts and knick-knacks, old worn-down pieces of machinery replacements for Coomer's prosthetics, and a small sling bag — it was a bit wet, having not been moved out of the way in time, but Tommy went to retrieve it either way. He patted the bottom of the bag, pushing whatever was in it to the side and finding the driest place, though he removed his button-up and laid it over the spot just in case, leaving him in just an undershirt. He'd hate for Darnold to be uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy smiled at his handiwork, then waved at Darnold with an unbeatable, bright grin. He pointed enthusiastically at his bag as he walked over, unbuttoning the flap, "H-How's this?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This should be good. Uh... Thank you, Tommy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Tommy beamed, offering a guiding hand to Darnold as he raised the bag up to the hole in the wall, and Darnold slid quickly into the pocket and onto Tommy’s shirt. After he reassured Tommy he was okay, the flap was closed, leaving him in the cool, damp darkness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing to do but lean back and relax. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, we gotta </span>
  <em>
    <span>go!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gordon exclaimed, popping his head out of Coomer’s pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do second that, Tommy. The maintenance man is just down the hall!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy placed a gentle pat on the outside of the bag, turning away from the wall with a final glance and back to his reasonably panicked companions, “We’re ready, Mr. Freeman!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Where’s your shirt?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pink tinged Tommy’s cheeks, “M-Mr. Pepper has it. It was— the bag was a little wet, and I felt bad... We should—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The jangling of keys in the lock tore them out of their conversation as a tall, burly man wearing a red, embroidered baseball cap — ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Team Nice Plumbing’</span>
  </em>
  <span> stitched in white font — and carrying a bag of tools pushed through the door. He almost matched Tommy’s height, and nearly out measured Coomer in bulk. His neutral expression would be intimidating if not for his comically squinted eyes — he looked like he’d just eaten a lemon, face all puckered up as it was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy paid him no mind as he stepped out of the door, aside from a friendly smile that tried — and failed — to mask his anxious expression. Coomer, on the other hand, simply couldn’t just walk away, “Good evening, Maintenance Man! Fine night, is it not? Haha!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The maintenance man looked Coomer up and down, eyes pausing for an almost undetectable moment on his chest pocket. Then, he spoke, “uh, yeah...? can i get past you? i gotta do my job.” The man’s voice didn’t match his stature, young and almost boyish at times. He shrugged, “i don’t wanna... but mr. coolatta will fire me if i don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer stunned him with a hard clap on his shoulder, eliciting a muttered ‘ow’ from the man, “Good luck in there! It’s quite the mess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the apartment door closed behind them, both Tommy and Darnold took a deep, stuttered breath. Gordon tapped Coomer on his chest, and gave him a fond, relieved laugh, “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotta get out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ANYWAY. big apologies that this literally took a WHOLE month to write... last chapter was posted on november 28th and here we are on december 28th (29th?). this is a long chapter though and i do write very very slow so THANKS FOR READING! ill be wrapping this whole thing up soon in a couple of chapters.... &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the boys make it back to the apartment, and have a little run in with bubby</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO! this chapter is actually posted at a normal time of day! how rare! im actually writing bubby in this chapter which is... hard honestly. BUT its done and i think this chapter is kinda ok.. HAVE FUN :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Being in the bag wasn't the most comfortable thing, Darnold had realized, but every once in a while Tommy would place a soft, reassuring pat on the black denim fabric, and if he held it there long enough, Darnold could feel the relaxing warmth seep through the seams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He liked those moments, oddly enough. It was comforting to know someone was there — despite the fact that he was nearly a stranger — on his adventure to the floor above. The presence of another life, as overwhelmingly massive and powerful as Tommy, could be so comforting in its own, strange way. Nothing could touch Darnold, nothing could hurt him as long as Tommy was around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is, no one but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still wasn't quite sure how much trust he could put into the stranger, but so far he'd been alright. But how quickly could that change? How quickly could Tommy decide Darnold and Gordon weren't worth it, turn them over to his father to be removed from the building, and have god-knows-what happen to them? There were no eyes on him, but the burn at the back of his neck was </span>
  <em>
    <span>excruciating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He'd never felt it like this before, not even during his first sighting with Coomer. Darnold hated it. Gordon had to have felt the same burn, with all those eyes on him all the time, yet he didn't seem to be phased by it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so strange, watching Gordon freely live his life in the view of giants. He couldn't imagine the stress he must feel, but the idea was almost... alluring in an unwarranted, irresponsible way. Life could be so much easier. To not have to work for hours to collect what was barely enough food to survive, to be comfortably cared for, to have someone to talk to for once — it all sounded so perfect on the surface. But pulling away that layer of comfort revealed a life of red flags. Darnold could take care of himself, and he didn't need any human to help him with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd been on his own longer than he could remember — around twenty-five years, if he had to put a number to it — and he wasn't about to give up his freedom now. Though, there could always come a point where he didn't have a choice. He didn't want to think about that right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, he couldn't just drop his guard — he was in the hands of giants after all — but the steady warmth and muttered reassurances that barely reached his ears almost convinced him to lay back and close his eyes, recline into the sweet, citrus smell of Tommy's shirt. Instead, he opted to drape the shirt around his shoulders, melting into the warmth of Tommy's hand, siphoning whatever heat he could gather against the bitter cold that crept in through the bag's thick fibers. The massive hand flinched a bit in reaction to Darnold's minuscule weight, but eventually resettled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"W-We're almost there, Mr. Pepper." Tommy stated, emphasizing his words with a gentle tap to the bag, "If we— When we get there, you need to— to stay calm, okay? I won't let anything happen." Tommy didn't expect an answer from Darnold, the statement more of a reassurance to himself than to the man. He let his hand linger for a few seconds, a thumb subconsciously tracing circles atop the black canvas before he stuffed it back into his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold nodded to himself, pausing for a moment as he considered the small movement. He missed relishing in the warmth of Tommy's hand, but when the hand was still he could almost ignore it. As it moved, the slow, steady circles were undeniably human — maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Darnold realized, remembering the glow of Tommy's eyes, but each movement was so overwhelmingly natural. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alive...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It unsettled Darnold a bit. He wrapped Tommy's shirt closer around him, mumbling a quiet sound of disappointment as the warmth of Tommy's hand was pulled away. It was good, though, despite his reluctance to fend off the biting cold on his own; he was getting far too bold, nestling up to the human like that. It was just a wall of canvas that separated the two, and he was sure that faux confidence he'd been building up would dissolve in seconds the moment he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> in those hands. After all, that'd be his fate sooner or later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, maybe that confidence could be a good thing. He didn't yet know Tommy's true intentions — though he assumed they were safe — but he'd have to face them eventually. Familiarizing himself with the human and growing more comfortable with the mortifying fear of being known would only protect him in the long run. Better to stand tall with the bravery of a grown borrower than to wallow like a bug in Tommy's hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, leaning back into the canvas as he waited out the final few steps of the journey to Tommy's apartment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He hoped it never had to come to that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was stiff as a board as he fumbled with the keys in his pocket, missing the lock and scuffing the metal before finally opened the apartment door. Gordon hid, curled up in Coomer's chest pocket, and Tommy subconsciously allowed his hand to rest gently on the bag, right where he could feel the faint heat and weight from Darnold's body. He paused, "M-Maybe I should— maybe Mr. Freeman should catch a ride with me?" He suggested, "So I can get the both of them s-someplace safe before anything goes wrong?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coomer's electronics whirred as he thought, and his face shone with a fond smile, "Good idea, Tommy!" He beamed, carefully scooping Gordon from his chest pocket and extending a hand to Tommy, "I'll speak to Bubby while you hide them away!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded, cupping his hands to give Gordon a comfortable platform to step into, giving Tommy the go-ahead to move. He opened his palm just inside the bag, across from Darnold — who seemed a bit out of sorts with the world opening above him, though Tommy reassured him with an apologetic smile — and let Gordon hop off and get comfortable before snapping the flap shut. He gave Coomer an uneasy sideways look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coomer was first to take a step inside, greeted with a... chaotic but not unexpected situation; Benrey lay face down on the floor, accompanied by a sleeping Sunkist, though Bubby seemingly hadn't moved from his spot leaning against the counter. In response to the quizzical glances from both Coomer and Tommy — who had stepped in right after the older man — Bubby simply shrugged, "He had it coming."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coomer couldn't help the hearty laugh that escaped him, while Tommy slumped over a bit with worry, "He— He's not dead... right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Bubby shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the incoherent mumbling of the man on the floor and a stream of white Sweetvoice: </span>
  <em>
    <span>White means "I'm alright."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy exhaled with the reassurance, "W-Well, that's good! I—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What took you two so long?" Bubby interrupted, pushing himself off the counter as he clutched his cup of coffee closer to his chest, "You left me alone with that asshole. And — by god — if you came back and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead, you couldn't have blamed me!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy floundered with his words as he looked for an excuse, before Coomer could place a loving hand in Bubby's own, and speak with a soft smile, "I'm sorry, Bubby dearest, but you know how Mr. Coolatta is! We could barely get a word out of him about when our apartment will be repaired, talking in riddles like he always does."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Bubby was enraptured by the comforting green of Coomer's eyes, though he was torn away from his trance after taking a short sip from the coffee he had been nursing. He nodded towards Tommy, who had been attempting a sneaky escape to his room, stopping him mid-step when he cleared his throat, "And why does Tommy have </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> bag?" He grumbled, taking an accusatory step towards the younger man, "First my coffee, now my bag... You make a pit-stop at our apartment, clearly, and come out with a goodie bag! What possessed </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to possess </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy couldn't do anything but stare for a couple of seconds, eyes glittering with yellow as he stumbled over his words, hand nervously trailing to rest on the outside of the bag, "I-I needed— Dr. Coomer said..." He trailed off, "I-I thought it looked nice...?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And that gives you a reason to take my stuff?" Bubby replied, exasperated, hands firmly on his hips, "Did you plan to give it back?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure Tommy did!" Coomer interrupted, placing his hands on Bubby's shoulders, "Now, Bubby, regale me with what happened while we were gone?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Later, Harold." Bubby dismissed, and Coomer's distracting smile dropped to a soft frown, "For now, I want the facts. And my bag."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~•~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the bag, Gordon clapped a hand over his eyes with a frustrated groan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course they'd made it back to the apartment scot-free, only to find themselves with an issue that started the second they stepped inside. The bad luck of two borrowers that had already been unlucky enough to be seen in the first place was </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbeatable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They might as well just throw it all down the drain at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon felt the weight of Tommy's hand shift reluctantly to the top of the bag, hesitating for a moment before the sound of a button snap opening rang out in what felt like deafening silence: two </span>
  <em>
    <span>clicks</span>
  </em>
  <span>, one after the other. Darnold looked smaller than ever, pulling the shirt tighter around his shoulders, draping it over his head as he pushed himself back further into the bag, "What do we do?!" He panicked in a soft whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Gordon's breath was strained as he looked up to see the darkness open up above him, only to be replaced by Tommy's wide-eyed, apologetic glance looming over them. Gordon sighed, "Okay... Darnold, you're— you gotta trust me on this one, alright?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold only sunk further into the shirt, afraid of the tone Gordon was using, "...what does that entail?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tommy's gonna pick you up and keep you hidden while I—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"W-Well, hold on there, Gordon!" Darnold deflected with a startled laugh, "I don't know if I'm ready for that...!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look, we can either </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> speak to the old man, or you stay hidden and I'll handle the explanation." He grinned, "I'm trying to save your ass here, man."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold shuddered at the thought, but stayed reluctant, "You didn't even ask Tommy about this. What if—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy interrupted Darnold's fruitless argument by lowering his hand into the bag, palm open and facing the borrower, a little twitch of his fingers beckoning Darnold closer, only earning himself a yelp in response. Darnold paused for a moment, looking from the reassuring expression on Tommy's face to the hand in front of him — close enough to touch, close enough to feel the gentle heat radiating from his skin. He sighed, "You're... sure this is the only way?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon nodded, "Unless you wanna speak to or get </span>
  <em>
    <span>handed over to a stranger,</span>
  </em>
  <span> yes. That guy isn't gonna leave without his bag, dude." Darnold's look didn't inspire confidence, so Gordon gave Tommy's hand a firm pat, painting his face with a smile, "Look, Tommy's a good guy. He'll make sure you're safe, yeah?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a tense moment before Darnold spoke, making his decision before he changed his mind or the older man became to antsy with Tommy's hesitation, "O-Okay. Fine. Let's hope this doesn't... last too long!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gordon nodded, "Alright. I'm gonna catch the first ride up, stand on Tommy's shoulder and all that so I can get a couple words in. You're next." He stepped into Tommy's hand, smiling as it began to lift him into the light of the apartment, "It’s gonna be great!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold went stiff, watching Gordon rise from the bag with a confident smile — though, Darnold could still see the uncertainty that laced it — and a couple of words to the older man that he couldn't hear over the beating of his heart as Gordon was placed gently on Tommy's shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold could feel his heart about to burst through his chest when Tommy craned his neck down with a fond smile as Gordon talked away, his hand worming its way back into the bag and stopped directly in front of Darnold, palm open. The borrower released a stuttered sigh, but took a step forward — this was time-sensitive after all — and placed a hand on the soft of Tommy's palm. It was strange — warm... warmer than Darnold had expected, and shockingly soft as well — but he paused for a moment to study the intricate patterns chiseled into the skin. A foot followed, finding footing on one finger-pad as Darnold went in for a closer look... His observations were cut short with a twitch of the man’s fingers that sent him careening into the massive palm with a startled gasp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Time-sensitive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold shivered, pulling Tommy’s shirt around his head and shoulders like an oversized hood, not wanting to touch too much of the skin around him, though Tommy had different plans. One thumb skated gently over Darnold’s forearm, engulfing his hand with the simple movement. It held for a moment, resting there gently as Darnold craned his neck to meet the man’s bashful-but-apologetic blush — the contact was meant to be a comforting reassurance while the rest of Tommy’s fingers circled to cup the smaller man in a gentle grasp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darnold’s heart raced for an entirely different reason than it had before. He covered his face again when he felt the hand rise from the bag, eyes stinging with the advent of light. He chanced a glance to the older men across the room, which he nearly instantly regretted; so many giants in such a small room. The one Darnold recognized as Harold Coomer stared back at him, returning Darnold’s glance with a bright, beaming smile. Despite the kind gesture, he couldn’t help the chill that ran through his veins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t keep him in the spotlight for long, thankfully, tucking the borrower behind himself and holding him to the small of his back. Darnold was glad to be hidden again, and glad to feel the man’s thumb snake it’s way into his lap. He latched on like his life depended on it. Gordon was still talking a mile a minute, but Darnold didn’t bother to make out a single word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped Gordon would do his best to make it quick. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wowie... a shorter chapter but a very self indulgent one. anyway school starts up again for me on monday meaning the last bit of this fic might take. A Bit. to update but i am doing my best to wrap it up and get to more fun one shots.<br/>on another note: its awesome to have people talk about borrowers in my asks or to see hlvrai borrower fics pop up. you are all feeding me godbless &lt;3 THANKS FOR READING!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my tumblr is @loneliestcactus if anyone reads this or wants me to write more or smth!! come give me a little kiss or beat me up. either works.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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